


Happiness Therapy

by EllanaSan



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Modern AU, aka the one where there is dancing, silver lining playbook inspired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-04-25 21:30:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4977223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllanaSan/pseuds/EllanaSan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You need a physical activity, his shrink had claimed. It will help you, he had promised, you will feel better in your own skin. Haymitch was staring at the huge pink neon sign completed with twinkling lights. It seemed like a good time to regret his life’s choices more than ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello! This is my brand new hayffie story which also happens to be a modern AU. It is loosely (very loosely) inspired by Silver Lining Playbook in the sense that I got the idea while watching the movie but it’s probably the extent of the inspiration. Happiness Therapy is actually the French title of Silver Lining Playbook. 
> 
> This is a relatively short story. There are only five chapters in all but I hope you will enjoy them. As usual, it will be updated every Sunday until it’s completed. 
> 
> I proofread this myself so any mistake is mine and mine alone and I have to apologize in advance.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this!

Haymitch was staring at the huge pink neon sign completed with twinkling lights.

It seemed like a good time to regret his life’s choices more than ever.

_Effie Trinket’s Dance Studio_ , the sign was proudly proclaiming underlined and framed by a hundred of those fairy lights thing, _please proceed to the back_.

His eyes darted from the sign to the house it was put up next to. It was a classic suburban house in a classic suburban district where every fences were identically white, the growth of the grass examined with a ruler and mowed with a certain idea in mind, where everyone had the latest sports car they were forbidden to use after a certain hour because god forbid there was noise in the street, where the people all smiled at each other and gossiped behind each other’s back as soon as they could. _Suburbs are smoke screens_ , his mother used to say.

Haymitch hated suburbs.

A dog barked down the street and he was a little too aware that people were spying on him from behind their curtains, no doubt waiting to see what he would do, the phone already clutched in their hand in case calling the police was necessary. His old truck wasn’t exactly matching the decor.

Who established their dance studio in the middle of the suburb?, he asked himself one last time before doing as the sign said and proceeding to the back of the house.

With each step, he felt a renewed sense of doom like he hadn’t known in a long while.

Why dancing?, Chaff had asked, chortling in the glass of disgusting orange juice that now permanently resided in his fridge.

The question had its merits. Why dancing? Because he had tried almost everything else and had gotten more and more frustrated with each new attempt. He had tried painting, he had tried origami… The supposedly _calming_ hobbies had left him ready to tear his hair off his scalp.

A square building twice bigger than your usual garage loomed behind the house. There was another pink neon sign on the door so Haymitch headed there, thinking for the third time that he should just turn around and leave.

_You need a physical activity_ , his shrink had claimed. _It will help you_ , he had promised, _you will feel better in your own skin_.

Let’s be honest, Haymitch looked and felt like a weak kitten that someone had just plucked out of the river. It had been a month and a half since he had last felt the deep bite of withdrawal now but the weeks of purging himself from liquor had exhausted him and left him depleted. Building back his strength seemed like a good way to pass time if only because it might just help him stop thinking for a while. He wasn’t one for going to the gym though and he certainly didn’t have the motivation to start by himself and keep to it.

He hesitated in front of the – also pink, what was it with pink in that place? – door. There was no doorbell and it was, after all, a dance studio, so he turned the handle and stepped in without any more consideration. A dance studio was like any other shop, wasn’t it?

Apparently not.

There was no convenient bell announcing his arrival or sale assistant ready to wish him a good day and ask how he could help him – he hated it when people did that but he would have welcomed it at the moment. The door gave on a small lobby crammed with two – oh, surprise – pink couches and two matching armchairs, there was a coffee table with a few issues of several magazines and an impressive shelf on the opposite wall that was covered with trophies, medals, and pictures of people on podiums or caught in movement. They all mainly featured a petite blond woman whose smile was blinding. He supposed she was the infamous Effie Trinket.

The number of awards was impressive.

He wavered between sitting down and continuing his exploration and chose the latter. _In for a penny…_

There was only one door in the waiting area that didn’t lead to a changing room doubling with lavatories so he went through it and stopped dead in his tracks. It gave on a huge luminous dance room with clear floorboards, an entire wall was covered from floor to ceiling with a mirror, there were training barres on the three other walls and an impressive stereo system. It wasn’t what held his attention, though. His attention was caught by the woman in the middle of the room wearing shorts and a matching blue sports bra who was so focused on what she was doing she seemed completely oblivious to the world.

There was no music, she was dancing to an inner rhythm and he found himself hypnotized by the way she moved. It was elegant and powerful all at once. It was several minutes before she stopped dancing and slightly bent at the waist, panting for breath, her hand on her hips. She still hadn’t realized he was standing there, and he had played voyeur long enough, he figured.

“So, how did someone with so many awards ends up in the back end of Virginia?” he asked.

She shrieked in fright and startled so badly she jumped, a hand on her heart. Her blue eyes widened in fear and she took several steps back, watching him like he was about to murder her right here in her studio.

“I’m Haymitch.” he said quickly, before she could put herself in a right state of panic. “We have an appointment?”

He hoped they had. His therapist had called her for him and he hadn’t bothered noting down the details. Had his memory deceived him? It certainly wouldn’t have been the first time since the withdrawal.

She seemed to recognize the name though because her whole demeanor changed. She pursed her lips, tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at him as someone would with an unruly child due for a scolding.

“Have you never heard of _manners_?” she hissed. “Couldn’t you have _knocked_ like civilized people do?”

Haymitch had never liked being told off.

“I did.” he lied.

If possible her eyes narrowed down to slits although they were also sparkling with irritation and it was a strangely riveting sight. “No, you didn’t.”

“Are you sure, sweetheart?” he smirked.

She gritted her teeth – which he took as an admission that she had been so lost into her own world she had no idea if he had knocked or not – and clicked her tongue.

“I don’t stand for pet names.” she retorted.

“Too bad.” he snorted.

For the first time since his truck had entered the suburb, he relaxed. That might be fun after all.

He knew he must have been infuriating her but instead of kicking his ass – like he suspected she was very capable of doing – she stepped forward, forced a commercial smile on her lips and outstretched her hand. “Effie Trinket.”

Her fingers looked delicate despite the long fake nails and he was careful not to crush them when he shook her hand. Her grip was firm though, and she seemed to enjoy trying to hurt _him_.

“Haymitch Abernathy.” he offered although she must have already been aware of that. “You were recommended to me by…”

“Yes, Caesar sends me some of his patients now and then.” she cut him off, turning around to rummage in a bag near the stereo system. The color matched her outfit perfectly. “Now, now… Caesar said you wanted three private lessons per week, is that correct?”

He stared at her crouched figure as she looked through her bag and wondered in what strange place his therapist had sent him. He rather liked Caesar, he knew how to listen without giving him the impression to be nuts or to be judged. Caesar always managed to get things out of him without seeming to insist.  

“Yeah, I guess.” he shrugged.

“Private lessons are more expensive than group lessons.” she said, still searching for he didn’t know what. “If you…”

“Money’s not a problem.” he cut her off.

She held out a notepad successfully in the air and stood up, scribbling down the information he was giving.

“Will it be your first time?” she hummed, her eyes glued to the page.

“No.” he laughed. “I’m plenty good at _that_. ‘Got a few ladies you can ask, sweetheart…”

“ _Effie_.” she corrected. “Good, it will be easier than beginning from scratch. What sort of dancing did you…” She lifted her head at that second, caught his smirk, probably thought back to her wording and rolled her eyes, clearly exasperated with him. “Oh, would you take your mind out of the gutter! No manners _at all_ , this is quite distressing to me, you know.”

“Yeah, I can see.” he chuckled.

She glared.

He smirked wider.

“So, no previous experience in _dancing_ , then?” she scowled.

“’M afraid not.” He crept closer to the stereo system, curious to see what kind of music she would be listening to. There were no CDs laying around though, just one of those fancy ipod things plugged in. He didn’t dare touch it.

“Snooping is rude.” she pointed out without looking up from her notes. “What kind of dancing are you interested in learning?”

“I don’t know.” He hadn’t thought that far. That morning, when he had gotten out of bed, he had still been deliberating going to this appointment at all. Chaff’s barks of laughter were still ringing clearly in his ears. “No ballet.”

She tossed him a mocking glance. “I wouldn’t have suggested ballet. I am not sure the tights and the cup would suit you.”

His mouth twitched in amusement. “You could be surprised, sweetheart.”

“ _Effie_. Do you have memory problems?” she asked.

“I call everyone sweetheart, don’t take it personally.” he explained.

“And I thought I was special…” she deadpanned, the tip of her pen ready to fly on the page. “My question was serious though. I do not need to know _why_ Caesar is treating you but I _do_ need to know if you have particular health problems so I can adjust training difficulty accordingly.”

She was all business but he could detect the polite curiosity behind it. He would have bet she was a huge gossip.

Well…

“I’m a drunkard.” he spat outright.

She seemed startled by the blunt honestly.

“Oh… You really don’t need to…” she winced, flustered.

“I’m told admitting I have a problem is the first step to recovery.” he chuckled bitterly. “Lots of crap, if you ask me.”

He waited for the pity or disgust to show up – he had learned a long time ago those were the two usual reactions faced with a drunk – but she flashed him a small smile instead.

“Caesar is an excellent therapist and you wouldn’t be here if he didn’t believe in you.” she offered, before hiding behind her professional mask again. “So, no health problem in particular I should know about?”

“Not really.” he answered, trying not to be uncomfortable. He had just met her, after all, it was a little early to start exposing his medical history. “My hands aren’t steady and I have more fat than muscles.”

He had intended that as a joke but her eyes were already studying him in a clinical way.

“You have not much fat to speak of.” she pointed out. “In fact, I would say you are underweight.”

“That’s from withdrawal.” he explained before folding his arms. “Look, all I’m really looking for here is a hobby, okay? Something that will leave me too tired to think about drinking myself into oblivion.”

She chewed on her bottom lip and looked him up for head to toes.

“We could start with a few sessions of basic stretching and then we can try a few styles and see what you like best.” she suggested. “And you shouldn’t worry about being tired, Haymitch. When I am done with you, you will barely have enough energy to crawl into bed.”

He should have trusted her on that front.

She insisted on starting immediately – as a free sample of what she had in store for him, that way, he could chose to subscribe to her program or not – and since he had nothing better to do, he agreed.

“May I ask you a personal question?” she hesitated, while looking through her ipod for the right playlist.

“There’s something personal you haven’t asked already?” he scoffed, wriggling his toes against the floorboard. It was odd to be bare feet elsewhere than in his home.

“You don’t have to answer.” she offered. “I was just wondering how long you have been sober.”

“Three months.” he said without any particular pride to it. He had heard recovering alcoholics announcing how long they had been sober as if it was a huge feat of their will everyone should bow to – that was one of the reasons he avoided AA meetings as much as he could. He couldn’t relate to those people. His sobriety was a practical decision born out of need, not out of a grand realization on his part. There was nothing to be proud about. “You never answered _my_ question, sweetheart. How does someone with that many awards end up so far up Virginia’s ass?”

“Are you always that vulgar?” she hummed along to the soft music coming from the speakers.

“Still eluding.” he accused.

“Focus now.” she chided him.

He tried to keep taunting her, he was enjoying the banter much more than he ought to. It had been some time since he had met someone capable to match wits with. He tried. But he failed.

The first exercise was easy enough even though his attempts at copying her graceful moves were probably ridiculous – he ruled out watching his own reflection in the mirror – but after the few basic stretching moves, it started getting awfully difficult _really_ fast. The peak of his humiliation came when she bent in two, her stomach pressed against her thighs and her hands casually placed on the back of her ankles.

_Flexible_ , he thought, thinking of entirely too inappropriate situations in which that could come in handy.

She was attractive and it had been some time.

He tried to copy her and found himself stuck. His hands barely reached his knees, he was already hurting all over and it was just ridiculous that his fingers couldn’t at least touch the floor… He strained his neck to watch her, trying to figure out was he was doing wrong…

“Don’t do that.” she chided him. “You will hurt yourself. Relax your neck.” She moved before he could do anything – not that he would have had any hope of doing anything, he didn’t think he had enough energy left to move a finger. Her fingers landed softly on his nape and rubbed lightly until he relaxed and stopped trying to watch her in the mirror. She walked behind him, placed her hands on his hips and nudged his legs apart with her foot. “Open your legs a little.”

“Never thought you would be the kind to talk dirty.” he joked, as much because his mind was plummeting to the gutter as to remind himself that it was professional and nothing else.

What had Caesar been thinking when he had sent him to her? She was _way_ too attractive to be trusted.

“Wouldn’t you like to know…” she retorted. “You are going to straighten up, now, but slowly, alright? And your head comes last.”

She guided his movement with her hands until he was standing upright again. A glance in the mirror showed him to be red in the face. He felt slightly shaky but wasn’t ready to admit he was done for. His pride was getting in the way.

She was obviously very good at her job though because she figured it out all on her own.

“I think it will be enough for today.” she declared, walking to the stereo system to turn the music off. She grabbed a bottle of water and drank some before offering him another one. He took it gratefully and downed half of it in one go. “What do you think?” she asked. “Is it suitable to your needs?”

He thought this was torture and she was Satan. He also thought his every limbs were hurting and it might very well be possible that his body would give in to sheer exhaustion and he would manage to fall asleep that night without having a nightmare. That was his main problem since he had stopped drinking: he couldn’t sleep properly.

“I think you’re hired.” he declared, already sensing he would regret it.

“ _Fabulous_.” she beamed.

Of course, it was hard to explain that sense of doom when she was smiling that brightly, her blue eyes twinkling with pride and pleasure at his committing.

A difficult gorgeous woman with a sharp sense of what bantering was about… How could he resist?

He signed whatever she wanted him to sign without really reading through – she came recommended by his shrink, he doubted she would make him sign a contract to sell his soul – and hoped back into his old truck, feeling so tired his grip kept slacking on the wheel.

It was early still so he stopped at the Mellark’s bakery and bought a few donuts. He ate three of them while waiting and left four in the box on the passenger seat. It wasn’t long before the passenger door opened and the girl appeared, her face lighting up when she saw the treat.

“Are there strawberry ones?” the twelve years old asked, tossing her schoolbag on the backseat and taking the time to sit down and buckle up before opening the box to find two strawberry donuts and two chocolate ones. “Thank you, Haymitch!”

“You’re welcome, kiddo.” he shrugged, always embarrassed when Prim acted so grateful for the smallest things. “How was school?”

He steered the car back into the traffic, more careful than usual. He was _always_ more careful than usual when the kids were in the truck.

“Great!” she exclaimed. “I had biology today and do you know…”

Haymitch nodded to whatever she was saying, not really listening. Her big dream was to become a doctor and she was very dedicated to her biology class. Prim was shy at first but once she was at ease with someone, she certainly could talk their ear off.  

“Is your sister working today?” he asked, taking advantage of a pause in her great speech.

He had trouble keeping up with Katniss’ shifts. He had told her she didn’t need to work as much, not while they were living with him and he had plenty of money to go around, but the girl was stubborn and even though she accepted every penny he threw at Prim, she was reluctant to accept anything for herself even a lift from school. She would probably have paid for the food if he had let her.

“I think so.” Prim frowned. “Or maybe she’s seeing Gale, I’m not sure.”

He frowned but kept his misgivings to himself. The Hawthorne boy came from the girls’ former neighborhood, the Hawthornes lived next to the Everdeens in one of the poorest area of the Seam, and moving in with Haymitch into a richer part of town – that was _not_ a suburb but a nice comfortable house in a deserted area that assured him some peace – hadn’t been enough to stop the two friends from seeing each other. Haymitch would have had nothing against that if Gale hadn’t been two years older and twice as prompt to come up with stupid ideas like poaching in the woods behind the mines or the occasional shop-lifting.

Haymitch got it. He had certainly done the same in his youth. The area was poor, the living conditions were hard, and it was worse when you had a family to feed. He _truly_ got it but that didn’t make it more alright and he didn’t know who was the head of their little team, if it was Katniss or Gale, but the fact remained that when they were together, they tended to get in trouble.

Yet it wasn’t like he could exactly forbid her from seeing the guy.

His relationship with Katniss was tentative on the good days and explosive on the bad ones.

“Haymitch?” Prim asked, a little hesitant.

At least Prim was an easy kid, he mused, she was well-behaved and bright and rarely did anything wrong – and when she did it was accidental not on purpose. Really, the girl was a blessing because he wasn’t sure he could have dealt with two Katniss.

“Yeah?”

He was focused on the car intending to pass in front of him but he didn’t miss her discreet move to crack the window open.

She seemed to ponder how to ask her question for a few seconds and then shrugged and went for it. “Why are you smelly?”

He supposed it was a polite way to say he reeked of sweat.

“’Cause I exercised.” he grumbled. “It’s my new hobby thing. You know.”

The girls were well aware of his drinking problems. They were so obvious anyway he had never tried to hide them. They knew why he had stopped too.

“Oh.” she said, before a teasing smile found its way to her lips. It was good to see her smile. It had been too rare in the first few months but Haymitch felt they were slowly starting to find their footing. Life was looking up – so naturally, he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. “You tossed the paint brushes in the fireplace.” she pointed out.

“Yep.” he confirmed.

“And the origami paper too.” she insisted.

“It was supposed to be relaxing, there’s nothing relaxing about folding paper that keeps creasing in the wrong way, sweetheart.” he grumbled.

“You lasted a week at the book club.” she went on.

“It was a stupid book.” he argued. “Life is full of stupid people, I don’t need to read stupid books too.”

“And you abandoned wood carving after three days.” she hummed.

It wasn’t exactly his fault. He had enjoyed carving in his youth but with unsteady hands that kept shaking, it had been an impossible task.

“Then there was the cooking class…” Prim chuckled.

“That wasn’t so bad.” he defended himself. “I would have stayed. They kicked me out.”

“Because you started a fire…” she giggled.

“They said _flambé_.” He rolled his eyes. “I _flamblé_ it.”

“ _Flambé_ doesn’t mean putting fire to the curtains.” she grinned.

“They should have been clearer, then.” he muttered.

She laughed and he smirked, counting her good mood as a small victory.

She ate her two strawberry donuts and went on chatting about school and who had done what. The first thing she did when they finally reached the house was to put the chocolate donuts in the fridge for when Katniss would care to show up.

Haymitch sometimes felt as if he was spending his time waiting for that girl to come home. He would have grey hair before long.

“Do you think Mom will be allowed visits this week-end?” Prim asked, as she cuddle the monstrosity of a cat she had brought with her from the depth of the Seam.

“I don’t know, sweetheart.” he winced.

He pretended not to see how disappointed the girl was as she rushed upstairs to do her homework or read or whatever she filled her free time with. It wasn’t so much that Aster wasn’t allowed visits as that she didn’t want them but neither he nor Katniss felt it was okay to tell Prim that.

He tried to scramble something approximating healthy for dinner in an effort to occupy his time – being idle was the surest way to contemplate a drink and only madness lied down that road, he was due for a blood test soon anyway, he couldn’t afford a relapse, _the girls_ couldn’t afford for him to relapse.

They waited and waited but Katniss didn’t show up for dinner. It wasn’t unprecedented but it was annoying Haymitch to no end. Prim made an attempt at being cheerful but it wasn’t convincing.

He waited long after she went to bed, sticking to a bed schedule she had set up herself, and lied to himself about being nervous when the phone started ringing. _Don’t be the police station,_ he begged silently as he picked up, _don’t be the police station…_

It was Chaff.

He didn’t know if it was a good thing or a bad thing because on the bright side, it meant Katniss hadn’t been arrested – _again_ – but on the less bright side, he still didn’t know where she was.

_“Did you put a tutu on?”_ his friend mocked.

“Shut up.” he growled. “It’s not that kind of dancing.”

_“Yeah, yeah, so you say…”_ Chaff snorted.

He heard the distinct clinking of ice against glass and he closed his eyes, his mouth suddenly parched. “You’re drinking.”

There was a touch of reproach in his voice.

_“No, I’m not_.” his friend lied smoothly. Whiskey, Haymitch mused, Chaff always drank whiskey. It was his poison of choice too… “ _So, tell me, how was the lady? She’s hot?”_

“She’s a pain.” he scoffed, momentarily forgetting his thirst.

_“But is she hot?”_ Chaff insisted.

He hesitated and then sighed. “Yeah.”

_“She’s a pain and she’s hot. ‘Sounds like your type of girls, Haymitch.”_

“It’s a hobby. I don’t need it to get complicated.” he argued.

“ _Sex is a pretty good hobby and you’re in a desperate need to get laid.”_ Chaff argued. _“It’s good what you’re doing for those kids, buddy, and I’m proud you stopped drinking, but even father of the year gets a nice little…”_

“Okay, I get the point.” he cut him off, rolling his eyes. That was when the front door opened and closed quietly. “Father of the year has to go.” he told Chaff before tossing the phone on the couch. “Where have you been?”

If Katniss was startled by his question, she didn’t show it. She hung her leather jacket too big for her bony frame on the coat rack and dropped her bag on the floor before kicking off her boots.

“You could have called.” he went on since she wasn’t answering.

“Mom didn’t care if I called or not.” she muttered, slipping past him to the stairs.

He grabbed her arm before she could brush his concerns off again. He had tried to show patience, he had tried to be understanding, but enough was enough.

“I’m not your Mom.” he spat.

“Then stop trying to act like it!” she retorted. “I can take care of myself, Haymitch, it’s fine. I’ve been taking care of us for years.”

“Yeah, ending up in a cell is not exactly what I call taking care of yourself.” he sneered. “ _You_ came to me, sweetheart. _You_ said you needed help.”

A matching sneer appeared on Katniss’ face. “And you stopped drinking for us and you took us in. How many more times do I have to thank you?”

“I don’t want your _thank you_ , I want you to make my life easier.” he snapped, shaking her arm a little. “Think about your sister.”

“It’s all I _ever_ do.” she replied, shrugging herself free from his grip.

Five minutes later, he heard her bedroom door slamming shut.

And now, Haymitch was really, _really_ frustrated and he really, _really_ wanted a drink.

Teenagers, he grumbled unhappily, were _not_ fun.


	2. Chapter 2

Haymitch was in agony.

His entire body was hurting, there wasn’t a square of him that wasn’t burning in protest against the abuse he was inflicting on it. He was too old for this _shit_ , he mused, as Effie bustled around him, with so much energy nobody would have guessed she had just been through the same kind of torture Haymitch had. She hummed quietly to the music, preparing the dance studio for her next group lesson, not even condescending to glance at him even though he had been slumped on his back in the middle of the room for the past ten minutes.

He was watching her in the mirror.

Her humming was quickly becoming full slightly off-key singing and she was sometimes wriggling this way and that when the beat picked up. His grey eyes were staring at her ass – he couldn’t be blamed really, she insisted on wearing entirely inappropriate outfits that stuck to her figure like second skin, she was all long bare legs and spandex clad body. She was hot. And he was in trouble.

Even Caesar had picked up on it. _Are you attracted to her?_ , he had asked several times during their last session, mainly because Haymitch had spent almost every minute of it complaining about her.

There was a lot to complain about, though.

It was their sixth lesson together and two weeks of Effie Trinket was enough to drive anyone to madness. Her hotness set aside, she was the most annoying woman he had ever met in his life – and he had met _his share_. She was demanding, she never accepted no for an answer, she refused to be intimated by him and they never agreed on _anything_. On their third lesson, Haymitch had gotten so angry with her he had left her studio slamming the door and shouting to the sky he was quitting. She had followed him out and shouted back that no, he wasn’t. He had fired her on the spot. She had argued he couldn’t fire her, it was in the contract he had signed.

And _fuck him_ , it was.

On their fourth lesson – and he figured it had been a sort of peace offering – she had arrived with a disgusting green smoothie, a recipe and specific instructions to drink one every morning. Apparently, she thought a healthy diet would help him build muscle strength and look less yellow. He couldn’t help looking yellow. He was a recovering alcoholic of more than a decade.

The smoothie thing was composed with avocados, lemon and he didn’t remember what and it was truly disgusting. The recipe was somewhere in a drawer of the kitchen, probably under the pizza take-out menu, and when she asked if he was following her instructions, he had simply nodded and lied through his teeth.

She had a thing for bossing him around.

Caesar was a funny man. _Are you attracted to her?_ How could he not? She was fiery and difficult. He had a thing for fiery and difficult.

“Are you going to get up at some point or do I need to call 911?” she joked, looming over his head, hands planted on her hips. The view wasn’t bad.

“I need more lessons.” he said, out of the blue. He had been mulling over the idea for a few days now. He slept better after one of their sessions. He was more tired, the pain in his body also helped him focus on something else than his thirst… The nightmares weren’t as bad. So, yeah, the downside would be more unbearable Effie Trinket trying to tell him how to live his life but he could deal with it if it meant one or two good hours of sleep at night. “Can we add two more? Make it an everyday thing on working days.”

“Private lessons are costly.” she exposed carefully, sitting down cross-legged next to him.

“I told you already. Money isn’t a problem.” he shrugged, turning his head to watch her.

“So you keep saying.” she frowned. “Are you rich?”

“Why? You dig rich men, sweetheart?” he snorted, wriggling his eyebrows. “It figured you would be the gold digger kind.”

She rolled her eyes but her mouth twitched in amusement as if she was fighting a grin. “You are preposterous.”

“Can’t you say ridiculous like everyone else?” he taunted. “What is it with you and fancy talk?”

“I am glad to see everyone else share my opinion about your ludicrousness.” she retorted, effectively winning that particular word sparring.

Her lips were pursed and she was studying him, reluctant to say what he knew she wanted to say. During their six sessions together, they hadn’t even really brushed the dancing yet. What they did was more some sort of fitness class and he figured she didn’t usually do that. It suited Haymitch’s needs though.

“I am not sure you would be able to bear a two hours session every day.” she answered finally. “You are not exactly in prim shape.”

“Way to stroke a man’s ego.” he scoffed. Usually, he would have told her what else she could stroke to secure his forgiveness but he was determined to get what he wanted. “Look, those lessons, it helps, okay?”

He was too busy hating her to hate himself and that was always a nice plus.

“Even so.” she sighed. “I am sorry.”

“I can pay double.” he insisted.

“It is not a money matter, I don’t actually need the money either.” she objected. “I refuse to work you to your grave.”

She wouldn’t relent. He might not have known her for long but he already knew she was a stubborn woman. Once she set her mind on something, it could as well have been law. He stared at the ceiling and tried to force himself to pick himself up from the floor. It was a little pathetic, he mused.

“I jog every day.” she sighed.

“Good for you.” he grumbled, taking a deep breath and sitting up. There was a sharp pain in his back but he ignored it. It would go away eventually.

“At seven a.m.” she clarified. “At Capitol Park.”

“That’s early.” he muttered, getting up on his feet slowly and with a lot of wincing.

Of course she _had_ to bolt upright with nothing but gracefulness as if it was the most easy thing in the world. And at the crease of her eyebrows he could tell she was angry again. _Wonderful_.

“Are you joining me or not?” she snapped, folding her arms over her chest petulantly. “I don’t usually make a habit of inviting my customers to invade my private time, you know. But if you’re too lazy to…”

“That was an invitation?” he cut her off with a frown. “You need to work on your communication skills, Princess. That’s…”

“Would you stop with the pet names already!” she huffed.  

“And miss out seeing you getting red in the face?” he chuckled. “No way, _sweetheart_.”

“Appalling manners.” she claimed, shaking her head. “Absolutely appalling.”

He joined her for her morning jogs.

He tried to at least.

The first day, he managed to run for ten minutes and then he had to stop because of a stitch in the side that left him panting heavily. She stopped long enough to make sure he wouldn’t die and then she left him behind.

The next day, she was waiting for him with one of her disgusting smoothies and threatened to bodily harm him if he didn’t drink it. She treated those stupid mixtures as if they were some magic potions of sort.

After two weeks of daily smoothies and jogs when he managed to run as long as her – even though he suspected she was slowing down for his sake – he finally asked her if she was a witch.

“Yes.” she deadpanned. “A witch who knows the true power of vegetables and a healthy diet.”

He didn’t find a good comeback to that so he shut up.

Prim somehow dug out the smoothie recipe and developed a taste for the thing which meant he was drinking grinded vegetables more often than not. His only consolation was that Katniss hated it as much as he did but was forced to drink it to spare her sister’s feelings.

Some days, he hated his life – well, he hated his life _every day_ but on some days, he found brand new reasons.

Five weeks after he had first started working with Effie for the first time, they finally started the dancing part of the lessons. He had thought it would be easier than the training she still regularly imposed on his body. He had been dead wrong.

“Chin up!” she shouted for the third time, right in his ear. “Up, up, up!”

She was attempting to teach him how to waltz and it was a disaster of epic proportions.

It would have been better if she had danced _with_ him but _no_ … She had declared that when they tried together he was letting her lead which was neither here nor there, so now, there he was, waltzing alone in the too big studio, pretending his arms were actually holding a partner instead of stupidly reaching for a ghost…

“It doesn’t matter how bad you are.” she went on – and truly, he would have thanked her for the vote of confidence if he hadn’t been so out of breath. “There is only _one_ rule, Haymitch : eyes bright, chin up, smile on.”

Asking him to smile was pushing it a bit too far.

He dropped his arms and bowed, his hands on his thighs to catch his breath back.

She stopped the music and handed him a plastic bottle of water with an encouraging smile. “You are doing better.”

“Like hell, I am.” he grumbled.

“Well… You certainly won’t ever be a professional.” she grinned. “You have no talent, I am afraid.”

He rolled his eyes at that statement of the obvious – not that he cared, he wasn’t planning on dancing in public _ever_.

“It’s hot.” he complained.

He was always sweating when they were practicing but today was worse than usual. The room felt suffocating.

“I know, I’m sorry. The air conditioning is broken.” she sighed. She was sweaty too, something that hadn’t happened a lot in their time together. Her blond hair was pinned high on her head but it still stuck to her brow and the back of her neck. She used a towel to dab at her face.

Haymitch was missing a towel and he was entirely too hot. He hated the feeling. It was preventing him from breathing properly. A familiar chill ran down his spine, as his mind was taken back to another time, another place in which breathing had been near impossible, in which he had thought he would die…

He was suddenly very conscious of the closed door and windows.

“Haymitch.” Effie frowned, with obvious concern.

He had the confused feeling the walls were closing in on him. He tore his shirt off in a desperate attempt to cool down and dashed to the window, fumbling with the opening system until Effie gently nudged his hands away and opened it for him.

It might have been warm inside but outside it was freezing. The icy wind rushed in but breathing clean air was so good he didn’t even mind. He stuck his head out of the window and forced his heart to calm down, willed his hands to stop shaking, blocked the memories that wanted to come knocking back. He wasn’t suffocating, he wasn’t trapped, he wasn’t going to die. He was fine.

He flinched when a hand was placed on his shoulder but, ultimately, he was grateful for it. It helped ground him, helped him chase the smell of sulfur and damp earth away.

“Sorry.” he muttered at last. He would probably have felt really humiliated if she hadn’t seen him doing so many ridiculous things in the last few weeks – like attempting to waltz for instance.

“Are you alright?” Effie asked.

“Yeah, yeah, fine.” he mumbled, stepping back inside. “’Don’t do too well in hot closed spaces.”

The room was quickly becoming more freezing than hot though but she didn’t suggest they close the window. She wordlessly picked up a sweater from next to her bag and put it on.

He could feel her staring at the scars on his chest and he cursed himself for even taking off his shirt in the first place. He didn’t want to deal with her questions or speculations.

“We’re done for today.” he said, slipping his shirt back on. He tried to at least, his hands were shaking badly.

He wanted a drink.

He wanted a _fucking_ drink.

He instinctively knew if he left he would go straight to the nearest bar and would drink himself into oblivion. The tremor was too bad for his fingers to comply with his brain’s command. With a curse and an ugly swear that made prim and proper Effie Trinket wince, he tossed the shirt on the floor and faced her.

“Or not.” he gritted his teeth. “Let’s go back to it.”

She eyed him warily.

“How about a coffee?” she suggested.

“I don’t want to drink _coffee_ right now, sweetheart.” he scowled.

“I don’t have any alcohol in the house.” she answered calmly. “I can make you an avocado smoothie though if you would like that better than a coffee. And you can take a shower. You reek.”

“So do you.” he spat grumpily.

“You _do_ know how to talk to a lady, don’t you, Haymitch ?” she mocked. “Always the charmer. Come on, I think we had enough emotions for today.”

She picked up her stuff, leaving him no choice but to do the same. It took five minutes before his hands were steady enough that he could slip his tee-shirt back on. He noticed she waited until he had gone out of the studio to close the window but she didn’t comment and neither did he.

“You’re not a lady, you’re a nightmare.” he accused, on the short way to her house.

“I suspect you like it.” she pointed out, letting them in through the back door.

It opened on an impressive kitchen with entirely too many utensils and appliances. The rest of the house was just as impressive. It was spacious, luxurious, spotless, and very much gave the feeling that the place had no soul.

She led him to a downstairs bathroom and showed him where the towels were before leaving him to it. In an effort to clear up the odd tension and to fall back on a more usual dynamic, he asked if she wanted to join him in the shower.

She hesitated before shooting him down. It wasn’t much, barely a faction of second. But she had hesitated and, as stupid as it was, it lifted his spirits.

The shower helped cleared his mind. He balled his sweat soiled clothes in his sport bag and put back his usual jeans and flannel shirt. The jeans were torn on the right knee and stained in some places, as for the shirt it was frayed. He caught his reflection in the mirror and felt completely out of place. He refused to let it gnaw at him.

“So, I guess you’re rich too then.” he snorted, walking back into her kitchen.

She had showered and changed too and his mouth became parched for entirely new reasons that had nothing to do with a thirst for liquor. Her blond hair was loose on her shoulders, curly and wild in all the right way. She was wearing a pink blouse and a high-waist grey pencil skirt and, of course, she was _much_ taller than usual which was explained by the impossibly high heels.

She looked more classy, less accessible, and it should probably have put him off but it only made him _that_ little bit more interested.

 _Damn_ him, he liked his women difficult.

“I won enough competitions to live comfortably for the rest of my life, yes.” she answered tersely. “Being idle is not for me though. I need to work, that is why I chose to teach.”

“It doesn’t explain how you ended up _here_.” he pointed out, sitting on one of the stools. He wrapped his hands around the cup of coffee she placed in front of him – and he was a little relieved she hadn’t gone through with her threat to prepare him a smoothie. “Caesar said you’re world famous in your field. How does a world champion ends up in the middle of nowhere?”

“Where do the scars come from?” she retorted, sitting herself in front of him with her own cup of coffee.

“We’re playing twenty questions now?” he asked, lifting his eyebrows.

“Trust has to start somewhere.” she pointed out.

“It doesn’t start with my scars.” he sneered.

“It doesn’t start with my story either.” she snapped.

For a second, they glared at each other and then Haymitch snorted. “I bet your tragic back-story doesn’t compare to mine.”

“It doesn’t need to be a competition, now, does it?” she scowled.

He smirked, triumphant. “So, there _is_ a tragic back-story to Effie Trinket.”

“Everyone has a tragic story, Haymitch.” She hid behind her cup of coffee. She was drinking the posh way, handling the cup like it was made of precious material – although maybe it was. “May I ask a question?”

“Can I _stop_ you from asking a question?” he scoffed.

She smiled and tilted her head, granting him the point. She wasn’t the kind to let go when she wanted to know something.

“You are clearly wealthy even though you favor secondhand car and clothes.” she observed. “But you don’t seem to be working…”

“Your point?” he cut her off.

“My point is we spend a lot of time together and I don’t know anything about you. You never talk about yourself.” she hesitated.

“That’s because _you_ talk _all the_ fucking _time_ , sweetheart.” he chuckled. “Seriously, you keep talking. All the time. About _everything_. What do I care that your neighbor’s cat had kittens last week?”

Her eyebrows shot up. “You were _actually_ listening when I talked this morning! And here I thought you were just running after me, trying not to die of a heart attack…”

He ignored that dig at his pride. He was becoming better at jogging. Soon he would be better than her and he couldn’t wait to see her face the day he would finally leave her behind – _that_ would happen when pigs learned to fly but one could always hope.

“ _All_ _the_ _time_.” he insisted, taking his first sip of coffee. It was horrible. Black. No sugar.

“Sugar is bad for you.” she declared, as if reading his mind. “Now, I will be blunt then. Do you have a job?”

He should have known having coffee with her would end in an interrogation. “Not currently.”

“Did you _used_ to have a job?” she pressed, clearly frustrated at having to forcefully pull information out of him.

“I used to have a job, yeah.” he nodded, unwilling to help her.

“And are ever going to tell me what you used to do or is it confidential?” she taunted. “Would you have to kill me if I knew?”

He stared at her and didn’t say anything until the silence became uncomfortable.

“I was joking.” she said at last. “It wasn’t _really_ confidential, was it?”

Again, he let silence answer her.

“Oh, my!” she gasped, leaning forward in a conspirator manner that was rendered moot by how loud she was talking. “You are a spy. You are _totally_ a spy!”

“The correct term is secret agent and you are so gullible I don’t know how you’ve survived that long.” he mocked. “I was a miner.”

She pouted. “A miner?”

“Disappointed?” he sneered. “It’s not _glamorous_ enough for you?”

It was certainly less glamorous than the little spy fantasy she had just constructed for herself.

“I didn’t mean it that way.” she denied. “It’s just… surprising. Did you win the lottery or…”

“We’re not talking about that.” he growled.

“Alright.” she granted quickly, lifting her hands to show she hadn’t meant any offense. “Do you…”

The shrill ringing of his cell phone interrupted her. He struggled to fish it out of his pocket. He hated those things, he had only bought one after the girls had come to live with him, in case they needed to reach him for an emergency – Chaff could laugh at him all he wanted, he was taking his duties seriously, he had failed a lot of people in his life, he wouldn’t fail the girls.

It occurred to him as he slammed his thumb on the green button that answering the phone when you were in the middle of a discussion without at least apologizing first was rude – it occurred to him because she cleared her throat and looked away to let him know it _was_ rude.

“ _Mr Abernathy_?”

The voice was harsh and stern and he knew at once who it was without having to ask. Alma Coin, the principal of doom of both _Seam Junior High_ and _Seam High_ because the town was too small to have them both on different campus.  

“What did she do now?” he sighed.

 _“Miss Everdeen was caught in a fight, Mr Abernathy._ ” the school’s principal told him, not surprisingly. It wasn’t the first time in the last four months. _“If you could…”_

“Is she hurt?” he asked. To each their priorities, after all. He doubted Katniss would get hurt in a fight, she was tougher than that, but there was this Cato boy she kept ending up punching because that was her quickest solution to everything – and he couldn’t even _blame_ her for it because from what he heard from Prim, Cato _was_ a jerk. Fights could get ugly though and all it took was a bad hit…

“ _I must stress again that our establishment does not condone violence and…”_ the principal

“Is she _hurt_?” he snapped, already on his feet.

He was aware Effie was doing the same and hovering nervously nearby, obviously through with pretending she couldn’t hear the conversation.

_“Well, she is not unscathed but she is not…”_

“I will be here in ten.” he said.

“What’s going on?” Effie asked. “Is everything alright?”

His explanation was mumbled as he tried to find his keys and put away his phone at the same time. “My kid got in a fight, she may be hurt, I need… _Fuck_.” The tremor was back with a vengeance and he dropped everything.

“I don’t think you should drive.” she said. “You’re upset and… Well, you’re upset. I will drive you.”

He opened his mouth to refuse and then thought better of it. He _was_ upset and he wouldn’t feel better until he was sure Katniss was still in one piece and then he would need to get her out of the school and if he couldn’t drive safely enough with her in the car… It was a nightmare. He was always terrified of anything happening to the girls. He had lost too many people not to be.

“Yes.” he agreed and, because she didn’t have to, he added. “Please.”

She nodded briefly and ushered him out, understanding time was of the essence – and that was why he didn’t even pause to blink when she steered him toward a small pink car that looked like it had directly come out of a Barbie catalogue. He gave her the address and gone they were.

“How old is your daughter?”she asked in an effort to distract him.

“Sixteen.” he grumbled. “And she’s not my daughter. She’s my kid but not my daughter. And she’s more a pain in my ass anyway.”

“Language.” She glanced at him but quickly focused back on the road. “You will have to expand on that ‘she’s mine but not mine’ statement, I am afraid I don’t follow. If you want to, that is. You don’t have to tell me anything, of course. It’s not like we are friends.”

There was some bitterness in her voice and he studied her curiously. She didn’t have many friends in that part of the country, he realized. She was always babbling about neighbors, TV shows, fashion and occasionally her dance students but he had never once heard her talk about someone specific.

“We kind of are.” he muttered, unwilling to give that much but unable to let her look that dejected. She immediately perked up, a grin appeared on her lips and her blue eyes sparkled brighter. She was beaming. He rolled his eyes because she was ridiculous, _really_ ridiculous. “I had this friend… He was a miner too and he… Well, something happened to me way back and I started drinking a lot but he never gave up on me. He forced me to come to dinner once a week and such, made me feel part of his family, you know?”

He was afraid she would pester him about his reasons for falling into a bottle but she didn’t. Instead she flashed him a smile. “He sounds nice.”

“He was.” He swallowed despite the lump in his throat. “He died five years ago in a mining accident. Left two daughters and a wife. The kids… They were babies, seven and eleven. Too young. And the wife… Well, Aster took it hard.” He shrugged. “I’m not sure she even tried to make it really. She just… gave up on everything. Katniss took care of her sister, of the house…”

The car slowed down and got stuck in traffic. He drummed his fingers against the side of the seat, wondering if it would be quicker for him to finish walking the rest of the way. _She is not unscathed_ – what did that even mean? _Fuck_ Coin and her cryptic comments, he thought angrily, that woman was a monster.

“There was some money from the insurance but Aster stopped working, stopped doing anything… It died fast.” he continued distractedly. “Katniss took an after-school job, she started doing things… Funny, I know the cops well, they dragged me to the drunk tank often enough, but two years ago I started getting to know them a lot more better ‘cause I had to go and get her sorry ass out of the station twice a month. She did everything she could to feed her family. The cops knew what was going on so they were lenient but… A few months ago was a time too many, they called social services.”

Effie was silent. For someone who talked so much, it surprised him she was so good at listening. Or perhaps she was simply shocked and appalled. He couldn’t imagine the idea of a delinquent was pleasing the Miss Proper she was.

“It was clear Aster couldn’t take care of them anymore.” he concluded. “They were going to be put into the system, they were going to be separated… Katniss came to me, she begged me to ask for their custody…” He shrugged. “Aster signed them off to me and we checked her in a clinic, the judge was okay as long as I got sober. So now I get to pee in a bottle every three weeks and Caesar sends regular reports.”

“That was very brave of you.” she whispered.

“No, it wasn’t.” he scoffed. “I should have stepped in earlier but I was too _fucking_ drunk to care.”

She glanced at him again. “I am sure you did everything you possibly could. I might not know you very well but I flatter myself with a good instinct and you seem a good man to me.”

“Then you clearly don’t know me very well.” he sneered.

She pursed her lips in disapprobation. “Does Katniss fight a lot?”

“Yeah.” he sighed. “She’s tough, that kid. Wildas _fire_. She’s not used to being taken care of either. ‘Making my _fucking_ life _fucking_ hell.”

“You are swearing an awful lot, Haymitch.” she pointed out.

“I’m angry.” he snapped. “She’s always doing _shit_ like this. She gets in trouble and then _I_ get told off and I never get around to scream at her ‘cause she slams the door in my face every _fucking_ time. They _fucking_ warned me that they would take her away from me if I couldn’t control her. And that _fucking_ Coin is a harpy, she’s going to report it and…”

“Breathe, Haymitch.” Effie cut him off. “Did you tell Katniss what she was risking?”

“’Cause you think she listens?” he scoffed. “At least Prim’s easy.”

“Prim is Katniss’ sister and she’s twelve, is that it?” she asked, obviously trying to keep up.

“Yeah.” he snorted. “You’d like her. All polite. ‘Wants to be a doc.”

“That’s nice.” she approved in a quiet hum. “And… You are raising them by yourself? I mean… There is no Mrs Abernathy, is there?”

“The only Mrs Abernathy was my mother and she died when I was sixteen.” he scoffed. “Why, sweetheart? You’re volunteering for the job?”

She clicked her tongue in annoyance but didn’t answer the question.

She parked neatly in front of the school. He shot out of the car and was halfway to the main building when he realized Effie was tottering behind him, trying to catch up but failing because of her heels.

“I would advise against swearing in front of the principal.” she whispered, once they were inside.

He didn’t need directions, he had been there enough times to know where to go. The secretary didn’t even ask him what he was here for before nodding him in.

“If my kid is hurt, I’m suing your school!” he shouted, as he stepped in Coin’s office. He had learned long ago that going frontal was often the only way to get the upper hand with the woman. She might have otherwise enjoyed his begging but she would have never relented in the end.

Of course, the speech he was about to launch in died on his lips when he glimpsed not Katniss in front of Coin’s desk but _Prim_.

“What the _f_ …” he started and was abruptly cut off by Effie’s timely fake exclamation of delight at the awful painting of a bird on the wall.

 _Timey_ , he guessed.

“Who are you?” Coin asked.

Effie obviously bristled at the woman’s abrupt manners. “A concerned family friend.”

“I see.” the principal spat.

While the women sized each other up and very much glowered, Haymitch swooped on Prim, alarmed by the dried blood above her upper lip.

“Prim, what happened?” he asked.

“Gloss stole Rory’s lunch.” she said. “He wouldn’t give it back. We asked but he pushed me and my nose bled and Rory got mad and tried to defend me so Gloss punched him. And he said _very nasty_ things about Mom so… I punched him.”

“I am going to _kill_ that kid.” he grumbled.

“Where is this boy who thinks it is acceptable to push girls?” Effie asked. “Why is he not here to answer for his actions?”

“That is very much not the point.” Coin argued. “The history of violence with those two sisters is…”

“ _Excuse me_ but it is _very much_ the point.” Effie cut her off before Haymitch could tell the principal to just go fuck herself. “Did this child even see a doctor, I wonder, or did you just drag her to your office because of personal prejudices against her family?”

Coin was gaping. Haymitch didn’t even have time to open his mouth. In a few more sentences, Effie declared they would fill an official complaint against the school if Coin dared punish Prim for defending herself against physical abuse and how _ashamed_ she should be of being responsible for such a school.

Coin kicked them out of her office without sanction or warnings.

“That was a little hot.” he granted as an aside as they were walking back to the car.

“ _Hush_ , Haymitch.” Effie chided him, whacking his arm. “Not in front of your child.”

Prim was watching them with a curious but amused expression that morphed into a face of sincere remorse.

“I’m sorry, Haymitch.” she said. “I didn’t want to get you in trouble or anything.”

“You didn’t get me in trouble, kiddo, it’s fine.” he promised, ruffling her braided hair. “And you have my permission to punch douchebags.”

“Haymitch!” Effie gasped in shock. “That is _not_ the proper way to raise a young lady. And we weren’t introduced but your guardian is rude so I am not overly surprised by this lapse of manners. I am Effie Trinket and I heard so much about you I feel I already know you, Prim.”

Prim shook the offered manicured hand with a puzzlement she was quick to conceal. “Nice to meet you.”

Effie beamed in delight. “Perfect manners. Now, _that_ is what I am talking about Haymitch.”

“Are you Haymitch’s girlfriend?” the girl asked with a frown. “You didn’t say you had a girlfriend, Haymitch. You should have invited her for dinner!”

“Oh, no, dear!” Effie laughed a high-pitched nervous laugh.

“She’s my coach.” he told Prim. “And she’s a nuisance.”

Unfortunately, that didn’t seem to convince Prim who seemed enchanted by the pink car. In five minutes they were fast friends and Haymitch had to sit and listen while Effie gave Prim a stern but nice lecture about how violence wasn’t the way to go to resolve conflicts and, obviously, Prim nodded through it all. She was probably already planning on grounding herself or something – she was that kind of kids. And once Effie was certain the girl had learned her lesson, they started chatting about everything and nothing. Haymitch slumped on his seat and looked through the window, wondering if they would talk each other’s ear off or not.

“Can I see your dance studio?” Prim asked as Effie was parking in front of her house so he could get his car back.

“I don’t know, can you?” Effie smiled at her. “The correct phrasing is may I.”

“May I see your dance studio?” Prim corrected herself dutifully.

“Of course, darling.” she offered, leading the way. Haymitch dragged his feet behind them, trying to figure out at which point he had lost all control of the situation. Prim was all awe for the studio, charmed by the waiting room, impressed by the size, asking a lot of questions about Effie’s career that the woman seemed more ready to answer than when Haymitch was asking them… “If you’re interested, why don’t you try out?” Effie offered at some point. “I give lessons to children your age on Saturdays, I’m certain you would find many friends there. And none of them would steal your lunch, I promise you.”

Prim bit on her bottom lip. “No, thank you. It’s fine.”

But she sounded neither certain nor fine.

“Try, if you want to.” Haymitch frowned.

The girl shifted her weight from one foot to another, obviously embarrassed. “It’s expensive, Haymitch.”

“Don’t be stupid, sweetheart.” he rebuked her gently. “I’ve got plenty of money to go around.”

Prim shook her head. “But it’s not right for you to pay. It’s okay really. I would like to watch though sometimes, if that’s alright?”

“Naturally.” Effie’s smile was a little less bright, she seemed sorry. It was a good thing it was Prim and not Katniss standing in front of her because the teenager would have already started flipping out about pity. “You know… Since I am such good friend with your guardian, I could make you a deal. You could take lessons for free and in exchange you could help me tidy up the room afterwards. Would that be acceptable?”

She searched his eyes but Haymitch simply shrugged his acceptance one way or another.

Prim was only too happy to agree though.

And all the way back to their house, he was treated to a running commentary of why Effie was “ _so cool”_ and asked repeatedly “ _Don’t you think she’s pretty, Haymitch?”_ and “ _Are you going to ask her out? You should_ totally _ask her out.”_.

He was almost relieved to be welcomed home by Katniss’ surly face who had heard about Prim getting into a fight and had almost left a hole on the floor from her pacing.

He let the kid explain everything, going to hide in the living-room while they run to the kitchen to talk.

Obviously, he pretended very hard he couldn’t hear Prim high-pitched explanations about Effie Trinket and her multiple extrapolations that they _were_ totally in love.

Katniss’ clear laughter rang throughout the house for the first time in months.

The insufferable girl spent the whole night teasing and mocking him.

He hated everything.


	3. Chapter 3

**_ 3\.  _ **

“Wake up ! It’s a brand new big, big, big day!”

The high-pitched voice startled him but it was the curtains being abruptly opened that truly awoke him. With a groan of pain, he grabbed a pillow and pressed it against his face in an effort to protect himself from the bright sunlight.

“If you’re a dream, you better be naked.” he growled.

“Haymitch, really!” Effie Trinket’s voice huffed.

He lifted the pillow enough to take a peek. She was not naked but she _was_ standing in his bedroom, dressed in one of her usual colorful jogging outfit. He glanced at the clock on his bedside table.

“It’s nine a.m.” he complained. “On a Sunday. We don’t run on Sundays.”

“Well, I do.” she countered. “And I thought you might too.”

“I really don’t.” he scoffed. “How did you even get in?”

“Primrose let me in an hour ago.” she explained, planting her hands on her hips. “I was hoping you would wake up by yourself but that seemed to be empty wishes. Katniss even had time to braid my hair once she was done with her sister’s. What do you think?” She twirled on herself so he could admire the neat blond French braid he had absolutely no interest in. “She was her usual charming self, in case you were wondering, barely polite, very aggressive each time you came up in the conversation… She’s very protective of you, that girl. Anyway, she asked me to tell you she was taking Prim to the clinic to visit their mother and they would only be back this afternoon.”

He took the string of information in stride. Katniss had met Effie a few times when she had taken Prim to her dance lessons and from what he had gathered from both of them, it clearly wasn’t love at first sight. The teenager had spent a whole evening arguing with Prim over dinner about why he and Effie would never work together, completely disregarding the fact he was standing right there and openly denying _any_ feelings for the woman.

The debate had somehow reached Chaff, Finnick, Annie and Johanna and it seemed everywhere he went, everyone was discussing his – imaginary – love life and giving their opinion on the matter.

“Good.” he said. Prim needed to see her mother and Katniss, despite her regular claims that she didn’t need Aster, was suffering from her absence. “Now go away so I can sleep.”

He turned his back on her and put the pillow back on his face, careful to keep it over his eyes but not to cover his nose – that wouldn’t only trigger memories he didn’t need to trigger.

“It’s bright and early!” she exclaimed, snatching the pillow away. “Come run with me, Haymitch.”

She sounded like a sulking child. He tossed her a glance over his shoulder and she was pouting, _actually_ pouting.

“You seriously need new friends.” he commented. He should introduce her to Johanna. They would be so busy trying to claw each other’s face off, neither of them would bug _him_ anymore. That sounded like a perfect plan.

“I will have to make do with you for now.” she declared, grabbing a hold of the covers and shrugging them away.

Fortunately for her, he was wearing sweatpants.

“Should have slept naked.” he sneered, rolling on his back to stare at her. Her blue eyes were retracing the swollen scars on his chest. “Like what you see?”

She pursed her lips. “I have to tell you this charming act you try to pull on is anything but charming.”

“Too bad.” he deadpanned, grabbing a hold of the covers and pulling them back up. “I’m not jogging this morning.”

“Why not?” she frowned. “You are awake now and I know for a fact you have nothing better to do. Primrose told me.”

“’Cause I fancy being lazy today, sweetheart.” he answered, stretching his perpetually aching limbs. “And that starts with a proper lie-in.”

“It’s nine a.m.” she pointed out. “You already enjoyed your lie-in.”

“Not until it’s eleven or noon.” he argued with a frown. “When was the last time _you_ enjoyed a lie-in?”

“I am not a lazy person.” she retorted. “I do not like being idle.”

“No wonder you’re such an uptight bitch.” he snorted, holding the covers up before he could think twice about it. He should have really because it was an exceptionally bad idea. “Come here.”

“Certainly _not_.” she refused. “This would be the highest degree of improper.”

“Just so we’re clear, I don’t buy the blushing virgin act, sweetheart.” he chuckled.

“I never claimed to… I’m not a blushing virgin!” she sputtered. “I simply think there is a proper way to do things and I am still your coach and…”

“You’re fired.” he cut her off.

“You _can’t_ fire me, it’s in your contract.” she argued.

He rolled his eyes. “I _dare_ you to be lazy with me.”

It all narrowed down to how starved for company she was, he guessed.

She huffed and puffed and seemed ready to give up and leave, but in the end, she kicked off her running shoes and lied down next to him – _over_ the covers.

“And now what?” she hissed with obvious irritation.

“Now you close your eyes and fall asleep.” he sighed, settling down comfortably. He would never manage to go back to sleep now but if he was lucky he could drift off.

She was silent for exactly thirty seconds – he knew because he _counted_.

“I don’t like sleeping.” she confessed.

“No kidding.” he snorted. “You’re so energetic _looking at you_ makes me tired.”

“I have nightmares.” she whispered.

He opened his eyes to watch her, curious.

“Am I finally getting the mysterious story?” he joked.

“It’s not that mysterious.” she scoffed. “It’s all over the internet. I’m surprised you didn’t find out already.”

“Yeah, in case you didn’t notice, I’m not a technology friendly guy.” he rebuked her gently. “Besides, you didn’t want to say, I wasn’t about to go looking. _You_ didn’t go poking into my past, right?”

“No.” she granted in a sigh, turning on her side so they were facing each other. “It’s ridiculous, I warn you.”

“You’re ridiculous, sweetheart. I’m used to it.” he smirked, tucking a wayward strand that had escaped the braid behind her ear.

She seemed to relax.

“Over a year ago there was a big corruption scandal in the dance competitions federation. Further investigation showed links with organized crimes and less than glorious criminal activities… It turned out my partner and our manager were involved.” she explained, her eyes locked with his. “I didn’t know _anything_ about it, anything at all, I swear.”

She looked anxious to make that clear so he shrugged.

“Okay.” he said simply.

A small smile graced her lips but it was bitter.

“The police wasn’t as quick as you are to trust me.” she continued. “Seneca had used some of my money. I thought he was investing small amounts of it in legit companies, I _trusted_ him. I didn’t know what he was really doing with it but some of the money was traced back to me and they arrested me. They refused to believe me, they kept asking questions I couldn’t answer… It was awful.” This time, she looked away and curled up on herself. “I spent months in prison while my lawyer sorted everything out. Luckily for me, Plutarch is a shark. He managed to convince them of my innocence but when I got out… Everything was different. Seneca had hanged himself in prison – or was hanged, the debate is still open – and the scandal was so huge my career was over. And there was the press hounding me and…” She breathed out slowly. “Prison was… It was a nightmare, Haymitch. I thought I would die in there. The in-mates, some of the guards…” She shook her head. “I don’t like sleeping because it all comes back at night. I ran away. I opened a map, I chose a state at random and I picked up the smallest isolated town I could find. Caesar used to be my therapist, he still is on occasion, that’s why he sends me special cases.”

“And I’m a special case?” he asked, because it seemed safer than commenting upon any of what she had just confessed.

“He probably knew you would keep me busy.” she laughed. There was a hysterical edge to it though and he drew her in his arms. He didn’t stop to think before he did it, it didn’t occur to him she might not want it. They had never hugged before, that was true, but he had hold her in his arms plenty of times during their lessons. It felt familiar and nice. She wrapped her arms around him without the smallest touch of hesitation and buried her face in his neck. “I don’t feel safe anymore.” she whispered. “That’s my tragic back-story.”

He pressed a kiss against her neatly braided hair. “You’re safe with me.”

He was surprised to find he meant it.

He was overprotective with his friends because he had lost all of his family once and he knew better than anyone just how swift death was. He rarely bothered with anyone who he wasn’t close to but Effie had sneaked her way past his defenses awfully fast.

“I know.” she offered, drawing back just enough to look at him.

He didn’t know if she did it on purpose on not. He didn’t know if it had been his intention when he had invited her to lie down with him.

He only knew it had been leading there from the very first time he had seen her.

He only had to lean in a little to brush his lips against hers in a silent question. It was answered when she firmly pressed her mouth against his. It wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t sweet and it certainly wasn’t kind. She was just as demanding with her kisses as she was with everything else in her life. It was messy, sloppy and too aggressive but he wouldn’t have it any other way. His hands ran under her top but she was the one who slipped it over her head and unhook her bra as if it was an everyday occurrence for them to do _that_.

Haymitch didn’t complain. There was too much new creamy white territory to explore to _complain._ She was beautiful, just how he knew she would be, and he was lost to lust even before she tore the sweatpants off him.

Afterwards, as they lied still tangled together, panting for breath, he couldn’t help his chuckles. “I wanted a lazy morning. Trust you to make that a sportive thing.”

He was beaten. Completely, _utterly_ beaten.

“I told you, I do not do lazy.” she mumbled, playfully biting his shoulder.

She didn’t seem tired. She looked like she could do that all day. _Lucky_ _her_. Haymitch was spent. Her fingers roamed on his chest, still exploring, still learning, and he started reconsidering his state of tiredness. Until they stopped on the ugly swollen scar on his side, that was.

She didn’t ask but he could tell she wanted to.

She had told him her big secret and now it was his turn, he figured. That was how it worked in the normal world with normal people.

“There was an accident at the mine.” He forced himself to spit the words he had only succeeded in sputtering out for the first time barely a few months ago to Caesar. He had hold them in for years before that. Everybody knew the story. He was a local celebrity, how morbid as it was. “We were caved-in. I spent two days trapped underground. Forty-eight people. I was the only one to survive.”

Short sentences. To the point.

He turned his head away from her.

He didn’t tell her about one of the beam falling on him, about the shard of metal in his abdomen, he didn’t have to, her hand was on the scar. Anyone could tell just by looking at it he was almost gutted to death.

“It’s not the end of the story.” she murmured softly, dropping a lingering kiss on his shoulder.

He didn’t ask how she could know that. Maybe it was obvious too.

“There’s always a risk of cave-in but this time it was the company’s fault and they knew it. They knew I knew it too. They wanted to avoid a trial so they made me a deal: they’d give me money and I’d shut up.” he shrugged. “I was at the hospital, I was out of it and I wanted the whole thing to be over, I didn’t want to go through a trial, so I said yes. I made sure the families would get a good deal of money too and I thought that would be enough.”

“It wasn’t enough.” she guessed quietly.

“At first, it was.” he sneered. “And then… There’s this huge check that comes in every month and I started feeling like I had killed them all myself for money.”

“You didn’t.” she argued with a small frown, cupping his cheek and nudging his head her way so he would look at her. “That’s survivor guilt talking.”

“You’ve been taking lessons with Caesar?” he mocked and then shrugged again. “Anyway, a few months down the line I told them I wouldn’t take the money anymore and I would tell everyone the truth. That didn’t go well. They threatened my friends. They’re powerful people. I took the money and I shut up.”

“And you started drinking.” she surmised.

“Pretty much.” he snorted. “See? Told you I’m not exactly a good man.”

“You are not a bad one either.” she argued, pressing her lips against his in a lingering kiss that turned into another fumbling session.

“I’m not the kind of guy who says no to pity kisses or pity fuck.” he mumbled against her mouth. “Just saying. If that’s what it is.”

“Shut up and be lazy with me, Haymitch.” she commanded.

He was happy to comply although her definition of lazy left a lot to be desired.

It was hunger that chased them out of bed. He was sorry to see her get dressed again – although sharing a shower had certainly been an interesting experience – but found a brand new source of distraction when he saw her navigating through his house. It was so different to hers there was no making comparisons but he couldn’t tell if he was truly amused or just irritated by the disapproving looks she gave everything.

He waited patiently while the eggs fried on the pan.

“This is no place to raise two young girls, Haymitch!” she finally exploded. “The house is in total disarray!”

“My place, my rules.” he grumbled, dropping a generous portion of eggs on a plate and pushing it in front of her. She gave it a dubious glance and he could almost see the dilemma in her head : which battle to choose? His unhealthy and liberal use of greasy food or the chaos that was a lived-in house with two teenagers in it – although to be fair, he and Katniss were the slobs, Prim was actually very organized and tidied behind them more often than not.

“Since you do not want to go jogging, we are cleaning your house up this afternoon.” she declared.

His eyebrows shot up high and he sat himself in front of his own plate of eggs. “Say, sweetheart, I’m curious. What’s ruder? Inviting yourself over at someone else’s house or telling them their home is dirty?”

Her fork froze a few inches away from her mouth. She quickly took a casual, almost detached, expression that might have fooled a stranger but not him. He had learned to know her _very_ well in the last few weeks.

“How awfully idiotic of me!” she exclaimed with a cheerful smile. “I completely forgot I have an appointment. Actually, I should…”

“You should finish your plate.” he cut her off. “I wasn’t kicking you out.”

“I can take a hint, Haymitch.” she hissed.

“If you could take a hint, we would have had sex weeks ago.” he teased. “You can stay. Just don’t meddle.”

She studied him but slowly relaxed.

Asking her not to meddle was asking for too much though. He should have seen the trap coming. She insisted on doing the dishes and then it was all about space optimization in the kitchen and before he could tell how she had done it, he was moping the floor while she was tidying up the living-room. The girls arrived sometimes between their third and fourth arguments – arguments that had ended up with her pinned to a wall and a lot of kissing and, on one memorable occasion, biting – and were quickly enrolled in her crusade against chaos.

It lasted for hours and culminated in a particularly violent kissing session against the bathroom sink. The girls had given up an hour earlier, claiming they would go upstairs to clean their rooms – _claiming_ because he could hear the music from downstairs he doubted he would find them doing any cleaning if he ventured upstairs – and Haymitch was _done_ with letting Effie bossing him around. It was bad enough that she forced him to drink disgusting green smoothies every day.

He had just lifted her up so she could sit on the sink and wrap her legs around him when the doorbell rang. He stopped kissing her with a frown and gave the closed bathroom door a puzzled look.

“Are you expecting someone?” she asked.

“No.” he answered, stepping away from her. And none of his friends would ring the doorbell. They would simply walk in unannounced because they were that kind of people. “’Could be social services. They do surprise check-ins sometimes.”

“And that is why I was right to convince you to clean the house!” she triumphed, following him out of the bathroom, not so discreetly fixing her clothing. She still looked disheveled though and no doubt he did too.

He didn’t even manage to get to the hall. There was a stomping noise down the stairs and Katniss passed him by, shouting a “it’s for me.” over her shoulder.

“For you.” he repeated, flabbergasted.

She had never brought anyone over. Well, her friend Madge had come over once but it had been a five minutes stop on their way to wherever young people were going these days, not a real visit.

His eyes almost bugged out of his head when Katniss opened the door to a boy with sandy hair and blue eyes. The boy smiled at her as if she had handed him the moon and the stars but she briskly invited him in and didn’t seem to notice.

Haymitch was deliberating between gaping and tossing the boy out before he was truly in his house.

“Hello.” the teenager said politely when he glimpsed Haymitch and Effie right behind him. “I’m Peeta. Nice to meet you.”

“Oh, a gentleman…” Effie breathed out in a delighted voice.

To Katniss’ obvious dismay and Haymitch’s utter astonishment, she took over as if she was living there, making the necessary introductions, offering him something to drink, asking how old he was, what his parents were doing…

“Okay.” the girl cut in before Effie could ask him any more embarrassing questions. “We’ve got work to do.”

She grabbed Peeta’s arm and started dragging him towards the stairs.

Haymitch, who had remained silent until then, started to panic. Upstairs wasn’t good. There was a bed upstairs. And he knew what seventeen year old boys who saw a bed and a girl in the same room thought about.

“ _Wow_!” he protested, bodily blocking the access to the stairs. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“My room.” Katniss sneered. “I told you, we’ve got work to do.”

“In the living-room.” he said.

“It wouldn’t be really proper for a young lady like yourself to entertain a boy in her bedroom, dear.” Effie added not so helpfully.

Katniss’ glare darted from Haymitch to Effie. “Is your girlfriend making the rules now?”

“ _Please_ , don’t be stupid.” Haymitch spat. “She’s not my _girlfriend.”_

He spotted Effie’s small recoil but didn’t linger on what it meant. She was probably shocked that Katniss would question her openly.

“Whatever.” the girl retorted. “I’m not entertaining Peeta, we have to team up for a science project. And I didn’t choose, before you ask. The teacher drew up names from pieces of paper.”

The poor boy looked like a kicked puppy.

“That is not a very nice thing to say.” Effie observed. “Not that it’s my place to comment. Actually, I need to go. Say goodbye to Prim for me, will you?”

“Wait!” Haymitch frowned but she had already fled and was out the door before he could do anything. He was reluctant to leave the stairs and make room for Katniss to go upstairs.

Peeta cleared his throat. “The living-room is fine. I don’t mind, Katniss. I understand really.”

The girl looked from him to Haymitch and back again and then surrendered with a sulk and a muttered comment that she was going to go get her things. Alone with the boy, Haymitch glowered.

“Keep your hands to yourself if you still want them attached to your body when you leave.” he warned in a hiss.

Peeta swallowed hard but nodded dutifully.

“It’s really not like that, you know.” the boy added. “She doesn’t even like me.”

That was what Haymitch was afraid of. He didn’t like Effie either most days.

Thinking about Effie… Her abrupt flee was odd but he didn’t have time to think about it. He spent the next few hours in the kitchen, ears pricked in case he needed to break the boy’s wrists. He regularly sent Prim’s in, to interrupt them as well as to spy but she only came back with reports that the teenagers were working.

At some point, Prim got bored of teasing him and went back upstairs with her cat but he stayed in the kitchen, ready to intervene. He felt ridiculous. All the more so when the boy wandered in the room for a glass of water, he gave Haymitch a wide berth and stared at the closed cupboards with a hesitant expression. Obviously Katniss had told him to get what he wanted in the kitchen without bothering to show him around. Haymitch took pity on him and nodded to the right cupboard which made Peeta slightly relax. He watched as the boy pushed his long sleeves up to his elbows before placing the glass under the tap and…

“What’s that?” he frowned.

“Nothing.” Peeta said, much too quick. He was much too quick in pulling back his sleeves too. It was too late to hide the finger shaped bruises coiling around his arm though.

“That’s not nothing, boy.” Haymitch argued.

“I have a lot of brothers. We get rough sometimes.” The boy laughed it off but it sounded wrong, _fake_. “You know how it is.”

“Yeah, I know.” he nodded. “And it’s not like _that_.”

 _That_ looked like someone had grabbed him and shook him very hard. _That_ didn’t look like brothers getting rough.

Peeta looked like a doe caught in headlights but he collected himself and shrugged. “It’s nothing.”

“If you need help…” Haymitch offered carefully. He didn’t know what he could do for the kid but he couldn’t just let that go unnoticed. It wasn’t _right_.

“Thanks, I’m fine.” Peeta cut him off and fled back to the living-room. He left ten minutes later.

Haymitch munched on it all the rest of the evening but took advantage of the fact Prim had gone to get ready for bed after dinner to speak to Katniss alone in the kitchen. Not surprisingly, she hadn’t noticed the bruises and she didn’t know the first thing about the boy. Or she pretended to. She looked flustered.

Haymitch was so out of his depth he felt he was scuba-diving.

“You like him?” he found himself asking, cringing all the while.

She turned red. “No! It’s just he…” She rolled her eyes. “Last year, he stole bread from his father’s bakery for me. It was nice of him but it was really embarrassing.” She punctuated the last part by giving a small kick to a random chair. “He got in an awful lots of trouble with his mom, I think. She’s not nice.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” he snorted. That woman was a harpy. He only entered the bakery when he was sure it was her husband who was taking care of the customers.

Katniss’ cheeks were still flushed though and she was staring at the floor. He pushed aside the Peeta problem for now, there was another thing they needed to talk about.

“Look, sweetheart, you’re almost all grown up now…” he started, feeling the tip of his ear burning red.

“Please, don’t do what I think you’re going to do.” she begged.

“There are an awful lot of boys running after you.” he grumbled. “The Hawthorne boy and now this one… I’m just saying, if you have questions…”

“Haymitch!” she squeaked in a very un-Katniss way. “Don’t!”

He knew he should have insisted but he was a coward so he lifted his hands. “Just saying.”

“ _Don’t_.” the girl hissed in a perfect imitation of her sister’s cat. She folded her arms over her chest and sulked. “What’s up with this woman?”

“What woman?” he asked innocently, fumbling around the fridge in an attempt to hide his face.

“Don’t play stupid.” Katniss grumbled. “Are we keeping her or not?”

He tossed her an incredulous look over his shoulder. “She’s not a pet, girl.”

Although…

“You know what I mean.” she insisted. “Prim’s getting attached. She likes her. And you know she offered to take us shopping?”

“Better you than me.” he mumbled.

“We’re not babies, Haymitch.” she snapped. “If you’re dating her you can tell us. She’s annoying but you could do worse.”

Coming from Katniss, it was probably a green light.

“She’s just my coach.” he muttered.

She shot him a dubious look.

“I may have had sex with her.” he admitted.

Her grey eyes widened and she pressed her hands against her ears. _“Haymitch! Gross!”_

“ _Hey_ , you asked.” he said defensively.

“No, I didn’t!” Katniss protested. “I asked if you were dating. For _fuck’s_ sakes who do you think I am? Chaff? _Gross_.”

“And what do think people do when they date?” he mocked but he stopped smirking awfully fast. “ _Not_ that you have to do that before you’re ready and…”

“Please, shut up.” she cut him off with a wince. “I’m going now. With images in my head. I need bleach. _Gross,_ Haymitch, _gross_.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Don’t ask if you don’t want answers, sweetheart!” he called after her.

He checked his cell before going to bed – something he never did – sure he would find a hundred new messages from Effie. She sent text upon text at any given hour of the day, texts he often didn’t bother to answer.

There was no new message.

Weird.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of things happening this chapter! What did you think? Let me know!


	4. Chapter 4

**_ 4\.  _ **

Haymitch hated Mondays.

For whatever reason, it always seemed to be chaos on Mondays. He was in charge of meals simply because he wanted something useful to do – and otherwise Prim would do it and he didn’t think normal twelve years old cooked and he desperately wanted to give Prim a shot at _normal_ , as normal as could be anyway – but breakfast truly wasn’t his thing. He was still hangovered from lack of sleep, still shaky from the nightmares he had during the couple of hours he had actually slept and the absence of numerous _whistle_ sounds coming from his phone – the text alert Prim had set up specifically for Effie – was troubling. He never answered her messages but he had grown used to hearing them come in regularly. And so had the girls.

“Is your girlfriend angry, Haymitch?” Katniss frowned.

“I hope she’s not ill.” Prim pouted, munching on her toast. “She left without saying goodbye to me yesterday. That’s not like her.”

“She told me to tell you. It’s the same thing.” her sister argued, ruffling her hair. Prim ducked the hand, arguing that Katniss would mess her braids, and then stood up to go get her things. Katniss chuckled. “Wait! You’ve got a tail. Little duck.”

The teasing was affectionate and Haymitch couldn’t help a small smile as he watched them interact.

“Quack, Quack.” Prim mocked as Katniss tucked her blouse in her skirt.

A glance at the clock was enough to blow his serenity away though. “Come on, get a move on. If you’re late to school again, Coin will have my head on a plate.”

The drive to school was hectic and he didn’t manage to relax on his way to the park where he usually met Effie for their daily jog. Her unusual silence was worrying.

The thought that she might not be waiting for him crossed his mind – if there was something wrong, she might not be – and he decided that he would check at her house if she wasn’t there.

He was worrying over nothing though because she was in their usual meeting spot, already stretching, impossible to miss in her bright pink running outfit. Her smile when she saw him approaching seemed fake. He wanted to kiss her but noticed the absence of green smoothie and the distant way she was acting and decided whatever was upsetting her he better keep his distance.

“Everything’s okay, sweetheart?” he asked.

She looked at him with an odd sort of expectation he didn’t understand and when, after a few seconds, her staring started to verge on awkward, she rolled her eyes. “I was wondering if you might like to get a coffee later.”

_Coffee_?, he mused, puzzled. They jogged together and they had a lesson on Mondays. They would be together most of the day already and she wanted to have coffee? Why coffee? They never did coffee.

It occurred to him that coffee might be a codename for something.

It had been some time since he had been involved in that kind of things.

“How about we skip jogging and coffee and go straight to the sex part?” he smirked.

She glared.

Not the right thing to say, then.

“How about we focus on jogging.” she hissed and then she was gone.

His suspicions that she had been pacing herself so he could keep up with her were confirmed because she ran a few feet ahead of him, speeding up each time he managed to almost catch up. He tried to ask her what her problem was but each time he opened his mouth, she would shot him a glare and increase the distance between them.

He got the feeling the only reason she even stopped long enough to say she would see him later “at three sharp” and that she wouldn’t tolerate any lateness “as was his habit” was because it would have been rude not to. By the time he got back to his own car, he was pissed too and he didn’t even know about what. She had always been a pain, why would that day be any different?

The faint hope he had entertained that she would have calmed down and would be ready to explain her passive-aggressive behavior during their lesson was shot down as soon as he put a step in the dance studio. She was all business and polite fake smiles and she worked him harder than ever before.

“Are you trying to kill me?” he grumbled at some point.

He was out of breath, his body was screaming for him to stop torturing himself, and her attitude was starting to _really_ piss him off.

“Again from the start.” she ordered. “Five, six, seven, eight and…”

He didn’t move at her count.

“Seriously.” he snapped. “Why are you being such a bitch today?”

She turned the music off and glared at him. “I will thank you not to call me names, Haymitch.”

“I call it as I see it.” he retorted. “What’s your problem?”

She turned her back on him and went to crouch next to the stereo and her bag, rummaging inside as a clear pretence not to look at him.

“I would say my problem is obvious.” she hissed. “I think we better stop here for today.”

“There’s still thirty minutes left.” he commented.

“I will deduce them from your note.” she snarled.

“So _not_ the point, Princess.” he scowled, marching on her. He could tell she wasn’t expecting to be hauled back on her feet by her arm and even though he had been careful not to hurt her, it might still have been a tad too rough. Fear flashed on her face. “Sorry.” he said quickly. He hadn’t meant to frighten her. She relaxed but not by much. She still wouldn’t meet his eyes, even when he nudged her chin up. “Tell me what’s wrong.” he demanded.

Her jaw clenched and, for a while, he thought she would push him away and run. Instead, he found himself being pulled forward by his sweaty shirt. Their mouths clashed together almost painfully. Her teeth scratched his upper lip and the kiss tasted like blood. He drew back quickly, his brow furrowed.

“Effie.” he growled.

“What?” she hissed. “Was I so bad you do not even want this?”

“Bad?” he repeated, completely confused. “What are you talking about?”

“I am trying to find an explanation for your stupidity.” she hissed. “Because I am _a_ _catch_ , Haymitch. I am beautiful and clever and rich and talented and I am _very_ good in bed and I am…”

“ _Modest_.” he mocked with a snort.

“ _Fuck you_.” she spat, pushing him away.

The curse in her mouth was so out of place it left him stunned. And then it turned him on. A lot.

“I’d rather fuck _you_.” he argued, grabbing her arm before she could flee.

He kissed her again, more forcefully, expecting her to push him away again. She didn’t. Whatever she was angry about, she had no qualm in taking it out on him. She bit and grabbed and squeezed and fought him for control every step of the way. It wasn’t sex, it was war.

She only relented after her climax had washed over her. She didn’t even protest when he dragged her against him once he was spent.

“I’m _a catch_.” she repeated slowly. “And you are a moron.”

“Why, sweetheart, you have the sweetest after sex talk.” he chuckled, closing his eyes. The floorboard was hard under him and it certainly wasn’t the most comfortable place either to have sex or to take a nap but… “ _Fuck_.” he spat suddenly, propping himself on his elbow and almost making her fall on the floor in the process. “Condom. We…”

“Oh.” she interrupted with a stricken face. “Oh, we forgot! How utterly irresponsible of us…”

“Are you taking the pill?” he asked, eyes wide. He hoped she was. He _hoped_ she was. Because it would be just his kind of luck to have knocked her up. It was _all_ he needed.

“Yes.” she answered. “And I am clean so you shouldn’t worry about any STDs…”

“Okay.” he slumped back on the floor with a sigh of relief. “Okay… Good.” She was still sitting and watching him. After a few seconds, he caught the unspoken question. “I’m clean too. I have to take a blood test every three weeks to prove I’m sober and it’s not like I sleep around much anyway.”

“Good.” she echoed, folding her arms over her chest in a vulnerable manner that didn’t suit her.

She looked around for her clothes and started getting dressed quickly. Haymitch remained where he was and studied her. He wanted to ask her what was wrong again but he knew she wouldn’t answer so he let his mind wander, returning to the problem he had been mulling over almost all night : Katniss and boys.

“Say, sweetheart, you’re a woman…” he said.

She froze, in her green and blue spandex shorts, her arms over her head, the sports bra barely past her chin and her breasts still bare, and then finished getting dressed, shaking her head.

“How astute of you to notice.” she deadpanned.

“Sassy.” he accused.

“Yes, you can add that to the list of why I am a catch and why you are a moron.” she hissed.

“Yeah, I really need you to explain that at some point but not now.” he frowned. “I need a favor.”

“You are out of favors with me.” she replied without even glancing at him. “If you want favors, perhaps you should find yourself _a girlfriend_ , someone you would ask on a _proper_ _date_.”

“ _That’s_ what got your knickers in a twist ?” he snorted. “You think I want a girlfriend? Where did you get that from? I don’t need a girlfriend, you’re annoying enough as it is. Although the sex is a nice perk. Yeah, no, no girlfriend. You’re enough.”

She stared at him in such a way, for a second, he felt like the stupidest man on earth.

Then he brushed it away as one of her numerous peculiar irritating traits.

“Anyway.” he said. “The girls are growing up and I have no idea what Aster explained to them but I can guess it’s not much and…” He hesitated, not sure how to word his plea for help. “Look, they’re girls, I’m a guy… There are things I can’t talk about with them, it’s awkward.”

Her blue eyes widened comically. She sounded flabbergasted. “Are you asking me to give the sex talk to your daughters?”

“My kids, not my daughters.” he corrected distractedly. “Yeah. _Please_.”

“You do realize it is highly unusual to ask a virtual stranger to do that for you, don’t you?” she retorted. “And, _please_ , would you get dressed! I can’t talk about your children when you are lying here naked.”

“You’re not a stranger.” he scoffed, grabbing the boxers she kicked toward him and slipping them on. “The girls love you.”

“I highly doubt Katniss loves me.” she argued.

“She says you’re annoying but there’s worse than you.” he countered. “See, she likes you as much as I do.”

She planted her hands on her hips and glowered at him. “Are you trying to convince me or aggravate me?”

He slipped his pants on and shrugged. “I don’t need to convince you, you’re going to do it anyway ‘cause you’re a nice woman and you wouldn’t want two teenagers without a mother to go around without knowing important things.”

She shook her head and he knew he had won.

“I hate you.” she sighed.

“Right back at you, sweetheart.” he smirked, pressing a kiss right on her mouth.

She agreed to swing by when the kids would be back from school the next day. That talk, he felt when he came home after picking Prim up, only to find Peeta in his living-room with Katniss, couldn’t come soon enough. The girl bolted to her feet and dragged him into the hall as soon as he arrived, leaving Prim to make small talk with the boy.

“Check his leg.” Katniss ordered with a worried frown.

_Check his leg_. He pondered the weird instruction and how to go about it – and how, in hell, Katniss managed to notice anything odd on _his_ _leg_ in the first place given that the boy was wearing pants – but, in the end, it wasn’t that hard to figure out. The boy was limping so badly there was no hiding it.

“I burn myself on the oven.” Peeta mumbled when he asked him about it. “I’m clumsy.”

Prim clicked her tongue disapprovingly and disappeared upstairs. She came back with the first aid kit and wouldn’t listen to any objection Peeta made. She forced him to roll his pant up to his knee and went to work. A good thing too because the burn didn’t look good.

“You’re sure you don’t want to call a doctor?” Haymitch asked twice.

“I’m fine.” Peeta mumbled, teeth greeted either against pain or embarrassment. The scowl only melted away when Katniss grabbed his hand. Then it was all rainbow and sunshine, it seemed. Haymitch snorted, unable to remember a time when a girl holding his hand had been better than any shot of morphine.

“You need to watch out for infection.” Prim declared in a professional voice that would have sounded unusual in any other twelve years old.

“I don’t think I’m going to lose my leg. It’s just a little burn.” Peeta joked. “But thank you.”

“Clumsy, my ass.” Haymitch snapped, as soon as Prim was out of earshot again. “That’s no accident, boy.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” he mumbled.

Katniss squeezed his hand. “You can tell us. We will help you.”

“There’s nothing to tell.” the boy insisted stubbornly.

“Look…” Haymitch hesitated, searching Katniss’ eyes. She nodded briefly. “You ever need a place to crash, you can come here, alright? If you ever need help, you come straight here.”

It wasn’t a huge offer in his opinion, he wasn’t about to let any kid get hurt without at least trying to help, but the boy seemed moved all the same.

“Thank you.” Peeta said and that was the end of that. He left the kids to their science project or whatever they were doing and helped Prim with her own homework when she requested it, thinking that Chaff wasn’t that wrong to mock him all day long. How had his life changed so drastically in a few months, he didn’t know.

The next morning, Effie greeted him with a green smoothie and while she was still acting oddly distant, she at least seemed willing to talk so he told her about Peeta.

“You need to call social services at once.” she declared, once he was done.

“And say what?” he panted, always having a hard time running and talking at the same time. “I have no proof. If he says he’s clumsy, maybe he’s just clumsy and I’m thinking it’s worse than it is.”

“You are not and you know it.” she argued.

“Yeah.” he sighed. “But then the boy wouldn’t trust us anymore and where would they send him anyway? Katniss was so terrified of being sent into the system… I don’t want to do that to another kid.”

“What else could you do?” she asked.

He didn’t answer.

She glanced at him and stopped running. He stopped too, bending in two and placing his hands on his thighs to catch his breath.

“You are going to take that boy in, aren’t you?” she stated matter-of-factly.

He remained silent. He hadn’t been planning that far ahead. It was different than when Katniss had asked him for help. He didn’t know the boy for starters. Nothing compelled him to help beside his tortured conscience.

“How can you have such a big heart and be such an idiot at the same time?” She shook her head and started running again before he could ask what she meant by that.

They didn’t have a lesson that day and he kept checking his phone, waiting for the texts she usually showered him with. None came. He was angry with himself for getting used to them and even more angry to be disappointed that she seemed to have better things to do than annoying him. He spent most of the day wandering aimlessly around the house, convincing himself that he didn’t need a drink.

He had arranged for Katniss to pick Prim up from school and he congratulated himself for it when Effie arrived at the agreed hour, right on the dot. He didn’t think she would have liked waiting outside and he doubted she would have accepted traffic as an excuse.

She was wearing a blue and yellow dress that was obviously expensive. It was short and clung to her figure in all the right way.

He wanted to tear it away from her.

“Manners, Haymitch.” she reminded him, but there was a pleased edge to it. “Staring is rude and since I am a guest you are supposed to offer me something to drink.”

“I’m not staring, I’m picturing you naked.” he taunted, steering her to the kitchen with a hand on the small of her back that quickly slid lower.

“Haymitch!” she squealed, batting his hand away.

“Yeah?” he smirked innocently.

She narrowed her eyes at him but he was saved from a lecture by the opening and closing of the front door. The girls were never discreet and that day wasn’t any exception.

“My mother always said a lady shouldn’t raise her voice in the house.” Effie commented.

“They’re no ladies, they’re teenagers.” he snorted. “Teenagers are _monsters_.”

“Very encouraging.” she hissed, forcing a smile on her lips right on time. Katniss and Prim froze when they saw her but Prim was the first one to recover, beaming at her and running to hug her. Effie hugged back, obviously touched by the display of affection. Katniss was less demonstrative but she mumbled a hello.

Haymitch was relieved Effie was so efficient. The girls were herded into the living-room and the door was closed, barring him from hearing anything he didn’t want to hear. He hadn’t thought it would take very long – after all, it wasn’t a complicated thing to explain : slot A and slot B – but they remained in the living-room for well over an hour.

When they finally stepped out, Prim ran upstairs to safety and Katniss glared at him, red in the face.

“I can’t believe you got your girlfriend to give us _the_ _talk_!” she screamed, obviously really flustered.

“Effie’s _not_ my girlfriend!” he retorted.

“By all mean, Haymitch, shout louder there is someone down the street who didn’t hear you.” Effie huffed. She grabbed her purse and left before he could ask her what was wrong with her _now._

“That woman is completely crazy.” he grumbled.

Katniss watched him and then shook his head.

“You know what, I think you need a talk too.” she sneered. “Stop saying she’s not your girlfriend to her face.”

“But she’s _not_.” he argued.

The girl scowled at him. “ _Please_.”

“She’s _not_!” he insisted defensively.

“Then stop acting like she is! ‘Cause that’s a douchebag move!” Katniss snapped. “You go jogging with her, you text her every ten minutes, you talk about her all the time, you bring her here and never mind the things you do with her I don’t want to know about… That’s girlfriend/boyfriend stuff, Haymitch.”

“Or that’s consenting _adults_ having fun stuff.” he countered, stressing the ‘adult’ part. He didn’t want her to take a leaf out of his book and start having that kind of fun. Not yet. Not ever. He would kill the boy who tried that with her. All the boys.

“Maybe you should clear that out with her ‘cause I think she wants a boyfriend not a consenting adult having fun.” Katniss pointed out.

He rolled his eyes. “What are you, now, an expert in relationships? Last time I checked, your people skills sucked as much as mine.”

The girl folded her arms over her chest. “She’s nice. You’re hurting her. Even someone as blind as a bat could see it.”

He shook his head and retreated to the kitchen but she followed him, unwilling to drop the subject.

“She helped you clean the house! She wants to spend time with Prim and me.” she continued. “You know who does that?”

“Effie Trinket because she’s completely crazy.” he muttered.

“ _A girlfriend_.” Katniss argued, obviously at the end of her tether.

“I’m too old to have a girlfriend, sweetheart.” he grumbled. “I’m forty for fucks’ sake. She doesn’t want to _date_.”

“Okay.” she gave in. “Don’t come complaining to me when you get your heart broken ‘cause you were too stupid to do things right and ask her out properly.”

He mulled that over and declared the girl was completely off her rocker.

A hypothesis that seemed to be confirmed the next day when Effie greeted him with a green smoothie as she would have on any other day. She definitely wasn’t up to any talking though. She didn’t chat until he couldn’t take it anymore, she was cold, almost distant, but not outwardly hostile. He decided she had other problems that didn’t concern him and that she would tell him if she needed to, so he didn’t press.

He tried to kiss her, she avoided it.

He tried to initiate something more and she brushed him off.

It was like that for the rest of the week.

By Saturday, he was ready to explode out of frustration and irritation.

So when he came back home after two hours at Finnick and Annie’s, two hours that all his friends had spent teasing him about his dance coach and begging him to bring her the next time, he wasn’t particularly happy to find Prim glowering in an armchair in the living-room, petting Buttercup with mechanical moves like a Bond villain. She was still wearing her ballet outfit.

“What did you do?” she accused him as soon as he passed the threshold.

“What?” he frowned, more used to being attacked by Katniss than by sweet little Prim.

Sweet little Prim looked an awful lot like her sister at that second though. Same glare, same irritated spark in her eyes, same tightly pursed lips…

“Clove’s dad asked Effie out and she said yes.” she hissed and Buttercup hissed right after her. “They’re going to the cinema tonight and they will eat at a restaurant after.”

“What?” he repeated, a little stupidly.

“His name is Brutus and he’s tall and very strong and very handsome.” she continued, glaring harder and harder with every second. “And I told her you would be mad but she said you wouldn’t be because you two aren’t dating, that you are just friends and that I was too young to understand.” She folded her arms over her chest. “But I understand _very_ _well_. I know she likes you because that’s obvious so _what_ _did_ _you_ _do_?”

_His name his Brutus and he’s tall and very strong and very handsome_ …

What the hell was going on?

“Haymitch!” Prim insisted.

“What?” he said. Again.

“What did you do?!” she screamed so loud Katniss barreled down the stairs in alarm. She took one look at her sister, glanced at Haymitch and lifted her hands defensively before going back upstairs.

“I did nothing.” he muttered defensively. “I told you we weren’t dating. She’s free to see whoever she wants.”

Even a guy named like a dog who was apparently tall and strong and handsome…

Prim pursed her lips even tighter – something, he realized suddenly, she never used to do before Effie had come into their lives.

“Fix this.” the girl ordered before storming upstairs. Her bedroom door slammed shut, leaving him flabbergasted, slightly lost and he realized a little too late, _confused_.

Prim refused to talk to him. She appeared long enough to grab a plate and retreated to her room with her cat in tow.

Katniss for some reason seemed intent on glaring at him everywhere he went.

“You don’t even like Effie!” he snarled at some point.

Instead of arguing the point – that was moot anyway because, somewhere along the line, he supposed Katniss _had_ started to like her – she sneered and stomped upstairs to slam her own bedroom door shut.

Haymitch went to bed furious and annoyed. He couldn’t lie down though. His eyes kept falling on the clock and wondering if the date was already over or not.

_His name his Brutus and he’s tall and very strong and very handsome_ …

He started pacing back and forth in his room, trying not to let his imagination wander but unable to rail it in.

He imagined that Brutus guy who probably looked like a gorilla even though he had a dog name, he imagined she was laughing at his jokes, he imagined she would touch his arm not so casually…

He wanted a drink.

Badly.

He paced harder, trying to stop thinking, trying to stop himself from picturing them kissing or _worse_. The simple thought of another man’s hands on her creamy white skin, of another man touching her, of another man coaxing those delicious whimpers she made…

He grabbed his phone, started texting her, stopped himself and deleted everything.

What could he say?

_You’re_ _mine_?

_I will kill him if you let him touch you?_

_The idea of you with another man hurts so much I can’t breathe?_

Who sent those kind of texts? It was the highest degree of ridiculous.

He flopped down on his bed and forced himself to shut out everything from the memory of her lips to the thirst for liquor.

What did he care if she _fucked_ another guy?

He didn’t.

He had absolutely _no_ _reason_ to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This the chapter before last! This story ends next week but never fret, there is already a new one ready to take its place! (is it worrying I seem to write mostly hayffie lately...) Let me know what you think of the chapter!


	5. Chapter 5

Haymitch dropped the girls to school on Monday morning and drove back to the house instead of going to the park. He wasn’t in the mood to go jogging. He wasn’t in the mood to see Effie’s face.

Effie had made his life a living hell all week-end.

Not only had he been unable to stop thinking about her, to stop imagining her with some other beefy guy, the girls were so angry over what they perceived to be his stupidity that they were giving him the silent treatment. Prim was refusing to talk to him and Katniss glared and shook her head disapprovingly every time their path met. She must have talked to Johanna at some point because the news that Effie was dating someone else had gone through the grapevine and Chaff had called late the previous night, claiming he had heard from Finnick and wondering why Haymitch didn’t get his _shit_ together.

_She’s good for you_ , Chaff had claimed, _you’ve been better since you started your lessons with her, happier._

Was he better? Happier? He hadn’t noticed. He was happy to have the girls with him, they put some meaning back into his otherwise sad little life but had Effie played a part in that? He couldn’t deny she had certainly helped him give some semblance of order to his life. She had helped him get some sort of routine, she was good at making him think about everything but cave-ins and drinks…

Still, if she wanted to go and date tall handsome guys named Brutus, it wasn’t his problem.

He slammed the car door shut, he slammed the front door shut and, for good measure, he slammed his bedroom door shut too. He flopped on his bed and decided he would sleep some more, pretending he didn’t remember Katniss’ stern warning that it was how Aster had started her slow descent into insanity and that she was done taking care of people who couldn’t care about themselves. He had replied that he was entitled to nap in his own _damned_ house if he wanted to.

He wasn’t depressed.

Well… Not about _Effie_ _Trinket_ anyway.

He didn’t have to wait too long for the whistle sound but he didn’t fish his phone out of his pocket. He wouldn’t play her game. He wasn’t a dog and he wouldn’t answer to her whistle. Five minutes passed and another whistle, then another and another. When silence had come back for at least half an hour, he looked at his phone.

_9:05 – You are late._

_9:10 – Do you think I have nothing better to do than wait for you all day, Haymitch?_

_9:15 – If you are not coming, the least you could have done was warning me. That’s the proper thing to do. You better not be late to your lesson this afternoon or there will be hell to pay._

_9:30 – Why aren’t you answering me? Is everything alright?_

_9:45 – I’m going home. Please, let me know you’re alright. I’m worried._

His thumb hovered over the screen but then he dropped the phone next to him and placed an arm over his eyes.

He couldn’t figure out why this was bothering him so much.

Katniss would have said he was an idiot.

Maybe she had a point.

Another whistle sound startled him from his drifting off.

_11:43 – Haymitch, please answer me._

Again, he wanted to type something but he couldn’t do it. Every time he tried, he pictured her with that gorilla of a man his imagination had designed for Brutus and he wanted to throw up – or throw back a drink.

_12:12 – Are the girls alright?_

She sent more texts but he ignored them, watching the minutes slowly tick by on the clock in the living-room. He tried to watch TV but it failed to catch his attention. Three p.m. rolled by and he knew he should have just told her he wasn’t coming, that he didn’t want to take lessons anymore, didn’t want to see her again… It was cruel to let her worry over nothing but he wasn’t a nice man and each time he thought about her with another guy, it was like someone was stabbing him in the guts – a feeling he was intimately familiar with – and he wanted to hurt her back.

_15:06 – WHERE ARE YOU?_

It was the only text she sent. Minutes tickled back and no other messages came forth. She had probably gotten bored of waiting, he decided. Maybe she had called her stupid Brutus gorilla instead. Maybe she had made _him_ a green smoothie and…

The front door was slammed open, making him bolt to his feet and looking for the closest weapon… No use though. It wasn’t a burglar, just a furious looking dance teacher.

Her hair was in complete disarray, a grey coat hanged open over her usual pink shorts and sports bra, and her blue eyes were full of angry tears. She looked him up and down, from head to toes, looking for injuries and when she found none, she pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes.

“I am going to _kill_ you.” she growled. “Do you have _any_ idea how worried I was? _Any idea_?”

“Why, sweetheart, I didn’t think you would care.” he spat, glaring right back. “Don’t let the door hit you on your way out.”

“Are you _drunk_?” she hissed, walking closer without any sense of caution at all. Grown men cowered away from Haymitch when he was _that_ angry.

“I wish.” he chuckled. “Get out of my house.”

“What is _wrong_ with you?” she frowned, her angry slowly slipping into worry. She reached for his arm but he shrugged her off.

“’Can’t say.” he scowled. “Say, you had fun with your gorilla, Princess? Did you fuck him?”

Her eyes widened with sudden understanding. Unfortunately, it also brought the fury back.

“Oh, _no_ … You do _not_ get to act all jealous on me, Haymitch.” she declared. “You were very clear that you weren’t interested in me and…”

“What are you on about?” he snapped. “I fucked you. You think I fuck just _any_ woman? You think I _fucking_ drink green slimy disgusting things for _just_ any woman? You think…”

“I will _not_ be a one night stand.” she cut him off. “I hinted and hinted and you never asked me out on a date, Haymitch, _never_. And you kept shouting to everyone who would listen we weren’t dating. I won’t be your friend with benefits. _I_ _won’t_.”

“I don’t _fucking_ date.” he scorned, raising his voice louder than he had meant to. “We’re too old for this _shit_. We like each other, we sleep together, why does it have to be more complicated than that?”

“It didn’t have to be complicated, I just wanted to know where we stood.” she retorted. “You were clear on that front, Haymitch. You had your fun with me and I do apologize but I know myself and I know very well if I get involved, it won’t be just about sex to me, so either you take your head out of your rear and you decide that you want to actually build something or we stay friends.”

“Take your head out of your _ass_ , _that’s_ the saying.” he mocked. “You’re ridiculous. Your manners, the way you talk, your clothes… Everything about you is ridiculous.”

“So you said. Repeatedly.” she huffed, shaking her head. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

She wrapped her coat around herself and turned around.

He wanted to let her go.

He _should_ have let her go.

He grabbed her arm and tugged her back against him.

“Did you fuck him?” he asked.

She shrugged him off angrily. “Is that really all you care about? Do you really think it is the main point here?”

“Yes.” he barked.

“Why?” she shouted back.

“Because you’re mine.” he growled. And then he kissed her.

Maybe he was ridiculous too.

Because he wasn’t stupid enough _not_ to see how ridiculous _the whole thing_ was.

He had half-expected her to slap him but she responded to his kiss hungrily until her fingers tangled in his hair and she pulled his head back in a manner that was far from being gentle.

“If I am yours, you are mine.” she declared. “And that includes not denying that I am your girlfriend or that we are dating anymore.”

“I don’t do dates.” he warned against her lips. “And I’m _shit_ at relationships. ‘Haven’t had one in forever.”

“Fortunately for you, I am very good at everything I do and that includes relationships.” she teased, brushing her mouth against his stubble covered jaw up to his ear. She bit his earlobe in a way that made him whine.

“I hate you.” he grumbled.

“Good.” she grinned only to squeal when he tossed her over his shoulder. At least, all those lessons had found their purpose. She squirmed and wriggled and ordered him to put her down but he held fast and carried her upstairs where he dropped her on his bed. “Ruffian.” she accused but she was laughing and tugging at his belt so he figured she wasn’t angry.

He hesitated though. “Did you fuck him?”

It wasn’t really important in the grand scheme of things, he figured. They hadn’t set any rules and therefore it didn’t count. And yet…

“Would you stop being vulgar? And, on a first date? Do you really have to ask?” She rolled her eyes. “He was boring, Haymitch. And I wasn’t interested anyway.”

“Then why did you go?” he frowned, folding his arms over his chest.

“Because I am not the kind of women who will wait around forever for you to understand what you truly want.” she replied. “Now, are we fighting or are we making out?”

He smirked but joined her on the bed. “Both.”

She was a pain in the ass.

But she was _his_ pain in the ass.

And the bright side was that the girls started talking to him again once it was obvious they _were_ actually dating. If what they did was called dating. Aside for the regular sex, Haymitch didn’t see a lot of differences: they jogged every day, he still took lessons with her even though they tended to end up in her bedroom or on the studio floor, she visited the house at random hours, insisting on them doing some cleaning, sometimes spent the night, took the girls out shopping – which Prim loved and Katniss dreaded – and became such a huge part of their everyday life that Haymitch simply started taking it for granted that she would come and go to and from his house at her leisure. Giving her a key seemed like a practical thing to do so he didn’t understand why she made such a huge deal of it but he didn’t complain because he was rewarded with kinky sex and nice lingerie.

For a few months, life was very close to perfect. One day he woke up with her head on his chest and he realized it had been four days since the last time he had thought about having a drink. The craving was fleeting nowadays.

The house was always loud.

There were Prim and Katniss and also Peeta who had showed up one day with a split lip and a duffel bag and had kind of moved in the study nobody was ever using. The three teenagers made it impossible to catch a breath which was alright with Haymitch because silence was his worst enemy. Silence made him think and when he thought he brooded. And in the rare instances when all the kids would be out and about, Effie would fill the space so completely, he didn’t have time to contemplate his past mistakes.

Life was very close to being perfect.

Which was why he wasn’t overly surprised when the news came that Aster would be leaving the clinic soon.

Prim was overjoyed naturally, she shouted the news through the house and even though Haymitch made an effort to look glad about it – he _was_ glad for Aster – he couldn’t help the overwhelming sadness. Effie’s smile was bright but strained too. As for Katniss, she didn’t try to force herself to look happy.

“We will still have Peeta.” Effie whispered, after following him in his – mostly _their_ nowadays – bedroom. “And it’s not like we will never see them again. There is no need to be dramatic about this, really. They will be practically down the street. It’s…”

He wrapped his arms around her as much to stop her from babbling nonsense as because her eyes were shining with tears he couldn’t face.

“Move in.” he requested.

He had been thinking about it for a while but he hadn’t been planning on asking her like that.

“I beg your pardon?” she frowned, taken aback.

“Move in.” he repeated, pressing a kiss against her hair. “You practically live here anyway. When was the last time you even slept at your house?”

“Are you asking me because you are afraid of losing the girls?” she asked, drawing back just enough to look at him in the eyes.

“You know why I’m asking you.” he grumbled.

“It would be nice to hear it now and then.” she pointed out. “However, I am not holding my breath on any love declaration. You are a lucky man I am so understanding.”

He was a lucky man on more than one account.

He opened his mouth to tell her just that – but not in those words – when the bedroom door flung open to reveal Katniss.

“ _Manners_ , darling.” Effie chided her, stepping out of his embrace. “Knock first.”

“One day, you’re going to do that and we will be naked on the other side of the door.” Haymitch scoffed, before remembering that it might not happen because Aster was coming out of the clinic and that meant she would probably want her daughters back.

“I need to talk to you.” the girl said, her grey eyes darting briefly to Effie.

“Well, I will go and see what the others want for dinner, shall I?” she hummed.

“No, stay.” Katniss shrugged. “It concerns you too, I guess.” She folded her arms and stared at Haymitch. “Are you keeping us or not?”

“What?” he scowled.

“I want to stay here.” the girl stated. “And I want Prim to stay here too. So are you keeping us or not?”

“Don’t be stupid.” Haymitch spat.

Effie pursed her lips and tilted her head in disapproval. “What Haymitch means is that, of course, you are welcome to stay. As a matter of fact… I am moving in too. If that’s alright with you, your sister and Peeta naturally.”

Katniss shot her a blank look. “Aren’t you already living here?”

“Don’t tell Haymitch, he didn’t notice.” Effie grinned. “You know he is a little slow to catch up.”

“ _Hey!”_ he protested. He hated when they did that, ganging up on him to mock him was something they tended to do a lot. He shook his head and went back to the matter at hand. “You can stay, yeah, you don’t need to ask. But if your mom wants you back…”

“She never said anything about that and I don’t think she can take care of Prim.” Katniss said without the smallest hint of sympathy.

“Prim seems eager to have her back…” Effie pointed out softly.

“Prim loves her but she wants a real mom.” she countered. “And our mom hasn’t been that for a long time. You’re here now.”

Effie opened and closed her mouth a few times, unsure of what to say but Haymitch could tell Katniss’ words had moved her.

“Thank you.” She whispered finally. “That doesn’t seem very fair to your mother, though.”

“She can see Prim on the week-ends and maybe for the holidays but we have a good life here, _stable_.” Katniss argued. “Haymitch…”

“If your mom is okay with it, yes.” He said at once. “Of course, yes.”

“Good.” The girl said. “How about pasta for dinner?”

“Pasta, yes, absolutely.” Effie beamed. “I will be right there.”

Katniss shot them the disgusted look she always shot them when she thought they were being unnecessarily ‘lovey-dovey’ – her words – but left and closed the door behind her. He lost no time in wrapping his arms around Effie again, lifting her up from the ground in his enthusiasm. She laughed and he kissed her, just because he could.

“We make a good team.” She declared, framing his face in her hands with a smile.

“Better.” He countered, pressing a kiss against the inside of her wrist. “We make a good family.”

**_ The end _ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this story! I had fun writing it. Please do let me know!
> 
> I have a brand new hayffie story coming up! Since next week is movie week I don't know if it will be up next Sunday or the Sunday after that, it will depend of the state the fandom is in (we will all be quite dead by feels I think). In any case, keep an eye open for "Human Tokens" (cryptic right? I'm VERY excited about this new story).

**Author's Note:**

> What did you think? Let me know!


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